


Dancing with a Stranger

by StarWitness42



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Lovers To Enemies, Lovers to Friends, M/M, TW: Self Harm, Tw: mentions of Gordon, also sorry to any Ed lovers out there, but someone needed to be the bad guy, they're basically gonna run the whole gamut in this one, tw: bashing, tw: mentions of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWitness42/pseuds/StarWitness42
Summary: It started off with a nameless one night stand, but when Robert moves back to the village, he and Aaron will have to face what happened and what they can potentially mean to each other.
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 355
Kudos: 488





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cjblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cjblack/gifts), [five_of_five](https://archiveofourown.org/users/five_of_five/gifts).



> Endless thanks and love to cjblack and five_of_five for holding my hand through all of this. I couldn't have gotten back on the horse without your help. Love you!!!

The club’s music beats in time to Robert’s heart as he scans the crowd heaving in front of him, scotch on the rocks sweating in one hand, fingers clenched tightly into the palm of the other. He feels strange here, itchy, yanked outside his skin. Not because he’s never gone out on the pull before - that would be ludicrous - but because it’s been so long since he’s _had to_. 

With Chrissie, Rebecca, Connor and a half dozen others always on the go, it’s been months, maybe _years_ since he’s been forced to find comfort in an unfamiliar body. Yet here he is, forearms pressed into a high table so sticky he’ll have to scrub his leather jacket when he gets home, looking for someone, _anyone_ with even a modicum of intrigue about them to take back to his hotel and fuck into the mattress. 

Robert is bored, that’s the real dilemma. Has been for too long to even bother counting. And for some reason he doubts that the answer to that particular equation will be found here, amongst the mostly-gay hordes of Leeds. But that doesn’t stop him from trying because if Robert Sugden is one thing, it’s stubborn to a fault. Just ask his friends, if he actually had them anymore, _thank you Chrissie White, Scuttler of Lives and Destroyer of Reputations._

God, he needs to get laid. Man, woman, sufficiently tangible ghost - he almost doesn’t care at this point. But the longer he stands here, brushing off person after person that is just not _enough_ , the closer he comes to the conclusion that it’s not going to happen. 

Which of course means that’s when it happens, right as he’s about to give up. That’s when he sees _him_ move towards the bar. 

He’s never even seen the bloke before and he already knows he’s a Him, proper capital letter n’all. It’s in the way he walks, commanding the room’s attention with seemingly little effort on his part. The way his black jeans hug his arse like a soldier going off to war. The sharp cut of his bomber jacket, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. The curly hair, styled only to the point of belligerence. The eyes that catch the light of the club like a kaleidoscope as he scans the room, one eyebrow raised in silent judgment. It’s in _everything_ about him, and it’s everything Robert _wants_. 

Robert’s eyes aren’t the only ones that follow him, though, hunger and desire burning behind shark-like smiles from at least four or five distinct points in the room. A fact that only makes Robert want him more as he moves in, tossing all pretenses out the window in lieu of a favorable result. 

Thanks to a serendipitously chosen perch, Robert gets there first. And by the time he does, he’s almost settled on a pickup line that’ll surely get into his conquest’s trousers in under twenty minutes tops. He slides along the bar, ready to pounce, but as soon as the bloke turns to face him, something punches clear through his ribs and shreds his heart like a rotten tomato. 

_Blue_. The only word seemingly left in Robert’s vocabulary is _blue_. 

“Y’alright there mate?” the bloke says in a way that clearly shows how little he cares about the answer to his question. 

“Y-you what?” he manages to stutter out, but only barely because he is suddenly and terrifyingly an imbecile. 

_Great start, Sugden! Atta boy!_

The man turns further to face him, pressing his knee between Robert’s legs just shy of his crotch and making such direct eye contact that Robert has to dig his nails into his palms so as not to flinch as a thread of heat scorches up his legs from their points of contact. 

“I said are you. All. Right?” 

The words are punctuated this time, _sharp_ , like daggers. It almost borders on an attack, and normally, Robert would absorb that attitude and tell its source to fuck right off. But given that he wants to fuck other things instead, he says a cordial, “Just peachy. You?” 

_Just peachy? Really?_

Robert clearly needs his head examined ASAP.

He’s lucky that his smirk is still working, either that or this guy is all kinds of desperate, because Robert’s response doesn’t scare him away. In fact, the corners of his mouth lift up just high enough to qualify as a smile in Robert’s books as he asks, “What’s your name?” 

The word, “Robert,” flies out of his mouth so fast he might as well have spit it. 

The bloke laughs, or puffs out air in a close approximation of a laugh, which almost sends Robert into paroxysms as he continues to just _stare_ like somehow that’ll help him get this guy naked. 

“Robert, eh? Is that a question or-”

“It’s a statement,” he replies as he presses his elbow into the bar and does The Lean, the one that shows off his assets in just the right way. “My name is in fact Robert. And you are?”

The bloke bites the corner of his lip, looking Robert up and down slowly in a way that proves just how effective The Lean is before shrugging and saying, in the most casual way possible, “Look, I’m gonna make this real simple for you, Robert. I’m not in the mood for flirting or bantering or whatever else you’re trying to get started here. You’re fit. I’m horny.”

He pauses there, just long enough for Robert to practically swallow his own tongue as the bloke runs his hand up his inner thigh and _squeezes_. 

“You got a room somewhere or summat?” 

“That’s a really long name,” Robert chokes out because he is a monumental twat. But thankfully his physical reflexes are quicker than his mental ones because he’s able to grab the bloke before he turns away from him completely and say, “Wait. I have a room. Of course I have a room.”

There it is again, the barely-there smile as the bloke turns back to him and looks up through his dark, thick lashes in what is clearly a calculated effort to set Robert’s skin on fire. His voice as smooth as syrup as he replies, “Right answer.” 

~*~

They haven’t spoken in almost twelve minutes; Robert is counting. And even that thrilling conversation _twelve minutes ago_ had consisted solely of Robert saying he has a hotel room within walking distance of the club followed by a grunt from his new mate that he can only assume was assent given that they’re still walking in the same direction. 

He’s not expecting some soliloquy, doesn’t want to know the bloke’s life story, but something more than dead air would be nice. Something that he can work with. 

“So what do you do for a living?” he asks, Basic Social Interaction Starter Course activated. 

“You don’t need to know that,” the bloke replies gruffly like Robert just asked him for his bank password. 

“Do I get a name at least then?” he tries instead, going for cheeky and apparently missing the mark if the way the bloke practically screeches to a halt is any indication. 

He looks Robert straight in the eye, a gesture that once again makes something roll through Robert’s insides on the tail end of a lit fuse, and says, dead seriously, “Why does that even matter?”

He’s considering going for sincere, seeing as how he still wants to get up close and personal with this bloke’s cock, arse, or some combination thereof at the end of their seemingly hundred kilometer trek. But Robert is a prat so he says, “Wow, I hope you can get a refund for those charm classes because they’re totally failing you, mate.” 

The bloke’s eyes scan their surroundings, settling on a deserted alley a half dozen steps further down the street before grabbing Robert’s wrist and yanking him in the direction of what he can only assume is his untimely death. 

He opens his mouth to speak, beg for his life or whatever, but the words are literally knocked from his chest, nothing more than puffs of air in the cold night as he’s slammed into a brick wall way too close to a collection of bins to be sanitary. 

The bloke doesn’t hit him, though, he kisses him, rising up on his tiptoes to reach Robert’s mouth and from the moment their lips touch, the world around him almost literally explodes.

A pained, undignified sound escapes Robert’s body as the bloke’s tongue practically assaults him, teeth pulling on his lips to get him to open his mouth so he can dive in and suck Robert’s soul right out of his throat. 

He’s been kissed before. Robert has been _kissed before_. But this? This is something else entirely. Something so much _more_. And he thinks he could gladly suffocate here, pressed up against this cold wall in this dank alleyway, if it meant this bloke would keep kissing him like the world was going to end if he didn’t. 

It’s over much too fucking quick, his throat raw as the word _fuck_ slips from between lips that, up until a few seconds ago, were being mauled. And damn it all if Robert doesn’t _want_ right now. Want more. Want further. Want touch, taste, smell, want _everything_. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Robert asks, his voice awestruck almost as the bloke’s hands continue to fist into his jacket and they just breathe the same air, synced together like they’re already on the same page. 

There’s a smile. It’s barely there just like always, and Robert only catches it because they’re still just inches away from one another. But he takes it as a win nonetheless as he grabs the bloke’s wrist and drags him out of the alleyway and towards his hotel room. His steps quicker now, filled with a purpose he’s never really had before while the ghost of a smile mirrors on his own lips. 

~*~

“So, you live around here?” Robert asks because… well, he just doesn’t learn, does he? Sue him. 

He’s leaning against the back of the otherwise empty lift, his head pressed to the cold mirror, the hand bar digging into his lower back as he crosses his legs at his ankles and tips his head to where Mr. Grumpy is huddled in the corner, tapping his fingers against the wall like he’s ready to flee at a moment’s notice. 

He raises one perfect eyebrow at Robert and shrugs. Which… well, it’s sort of an answer, anyway. 

“I bet you’ve got pictures of cars all over your flat. Car mags littering the coffee table. You just look the _type_ , am I right?” 

The bloke huffs, narrowing his eyes at where Robert is still staring at him like he’s high as a kite and this guy is his next fix. Which is sort of true, thanks to that kiss.

“And a dog! I could see you with a dog. Something angry looking, like a rottweiler.” 

“Do you ever shut up?” 

“Me?” Robert asks, painting innocence across the lines of his face while pulling one hand out of his pocket to point at himself. “Not really. People find it charming.” 

“Think those people are having you on, mate,” he says as he pushes out of his corner, prowling towards Robert with a look that somehow manages to be both bored and hungry at the same time. 

“Or you’re just somehow defective. No one can resist my charms. It’s a simple fact of life.” 

“That so?” 

“That’s _so_.”

The word _so_ is stretched to its maximum capacity by the way the bloke tugs on his waistband, forcing him to stumble forward and hey, look, they’re kissing again. Robert’s going to go ahead and call that a successful result. 

It’s just as electric as last time even if it’s missing some of the anger that fueled it before. Now it’s playful almost, teasing, but no less overpowering as Robert once again has his breath stolen clean from his lungs. 

Grumpy shoves him back a little when he’s done, his own breaths coming in sharp, ragged pulls. And Robert can’t help the smug smirk on his face when he says, “I don’t think your plan is working there, mate,” because it’s not. It’s really _not._

For the first time, the bloke seems caught off guard, his gaze calculating, unable to figure out whether he wants to push this or not. But once again Robert wins when blue eyes clear and he asks begrudgingly, “What plan?”

Robert moves in close, sliding his hands up the bloke’s neck, over well-trimmed scruff before resting on his cheeks. The heat of his skin thrilling through Robert’s palms as he tips Grumpy’s face up towards him and leans to whisper in his ear. 

“The one where you kiss me every time you want me to shut up. I have to say, that’s not really going to motivate me to keep my mouth shut.” 

He kisses the bloke before he can respond, desperate to touch, to drag whatever he can from willing lips and a hard body. And seriously, why aren’t they at his floor yet? How tall is this hotel anyway? Eight thousand stories? 

Robert only pulls away when the lift finally dings, a deeply satisfied groan rattling around his rib cage before he says, “Ten points to whoever can get naked first,” with a wink. And it’s a joke, but it’s also really, _really_ not a joke because if Robert and his new little friend aren’t starkers inside of ten minutes he may just explode in the not sexy way. 

By the time they reach his door, Robert is rock hard from only a few snogs and a pair of eyes on him as he navigates the garish, deep purple carpet in the hallway. He can’t see where the bloke is looking, but he can _feel it_ , his gaze tracking up and down Robert’s body in a way that makes him feel more exposed than he’s ever been. And Robert has skinny dipped in a public water fountain before. _In the middle of a business day._

Grumpy plasters himself to Robert’s back as he goes to open the door, reaching around to palm his crotch, rubbing in soft, teasing circles as he presses wet, hot kisses to his neck. And truly, now is not the time to be doing that if they plan to do anything but fuck on semi-public purple carpeting tonight. 

“If you ever want me to open this door, I suggest… I suggest you ease off.” 

“Ease off what?” he asks Robert innocently. “This?” 

He squeezes then, just the right side of painful, and Robert literally sees stars. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he mutters as he finally manages to utilize his upstairs brain long enough to slot the key card into the door. And the little beep the thing supplies when the door finally unlocks is the best sound Robert has ever heard in his entire life. 

Grumpy shoves him into the room, following him in immediately and kicking the door shut behind them. And he was half joking about the rush to nakedness thing, but it seems like Grumpy took him seriously because within two seconds he’s on Robert, pulling at fabric and tearing at buttons and it’s like Robert has never felt so desired before. So _wanted_ , so desperately. Which is wild because this bloke doesn’t even know him from Adam. 

“Get your fucking kit off,” he growls at Robert when he stops and starts working on his own gear instead. Robert just stands there stunned for a moment, though, jacket on the ground, shirt half off, a few buttons shot across the room and his belt undone. He’s the picture of disheveled, and he hasn’t even seen much of this bloke’s skin beyond his face yet.

He can’t wait. He can’t fucking _wait_. Which is why he shrugs his shirt off but forgets the rest in favor of helping Grumpy shed his layers. Pools of black spilling to the floor and Robert is so hungry he can’t resist leaning down and biting the bloke’s collarbone harder than is probably friendly. 

The bloke hisses, but the good kind of hiss, the kind that makes something throb in Robert’s jeans, still inconveniently wrapped around his legs. And suddenly, _blindingly_ , it’s all too much. 

“I wanna fuck you,” the bloke says, all growl and heat. And at this point Robert would literally be up for anything, so he nods, rips off his jeans and boxers as quickly as he can and lets Grumpy stumble him back towards the bed. 

He notices something as the bloke hovers over him, naked except for a pair of delicious black boxer briefs. Scars, crisscrossed and dull, marred across his belly. But the reality of them doesn’t ever reach his brain because the bloke chooses that moment to push his legs up, press his arse cheeks apart and run his tongue strong and heavy across Robert’s arse hole. 

Robert yelps. He’s not proud of it, but he’s not afraid of owning it either because there is a tongue circling his hole, pressing inside every few passes and all Robert can do is fist his hands in the sheets and hold on for the ride. 

The bloke reaches up eventually, once he’s fried Robert’s brain right out. But when Robert reaches down to take his hand it gets slapped away. 

Blue eyes peek up over his pelvis, the mardiest look Robert has ever seen scrunching up his face as he says, affronted, “Lube, you plank.” 

Lube. Right. Check. 

Robert fumbles around the nightstand for a few seconds before his hand finds the lube and condoms he’d conveniently placed there before he’d gone out. And it’s not long before there’s a cool, slick finger pressed up inside him. 

He moans. The bloke moans in response, which makes Robert moan again. Basically, there’s just a lot of moaning going on right now. But it’s perfect. Every touch is perfect as one then two then three fingers hook inside of him, searching out his prostate and finding it like a guided missile. And if this is just the foreplay and prep, Robert is fairly certain that the sex is going to kill him. 

What a fucking way to go though, eh?

By the time the bloke pulls out, removing his boxers and settling back on his heels to roll the condom on, Robert is a bloody mess. There’s precum smeared across his belly, his skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, and he’s actually managed to bite clear through his bottom lip some time in the last five minutes. 

It’s absolutely perfect. 

Grumpy doesn’t waste a second of time, sliding into him with one smooth, confident stroke. And from that moment onward, he doesn’t let up. His hips pounding into Robert, seeking him out the way his fingers had until his cock hits Robert’s prostate and a noise he’s never made in his entire life rips from his chest. 

“ _There_ ,” he says breathlessly as if that weren’t obvious. But either way, his new best friend zeroes in with textbook precision, circling his hips and lifting Robert’s legs higher so he can get in deeper, harder, hotter, tighter, everywhere, _everywhere_ , the bloke is bloody _everywhere_. 

He doesn’t touch him, though. And when Robert goes to reach for himself, the bloke grabs both of his hands and pins them above his head, using one strong fist to pin them both down so he can hold tight to Robert’s hip with the other one, keep up the pace, keep up the assault. And it’s great, at first. It’s everything Robert didn’t know he needed right now. But eventually the strain in his limbs, the ache in his stomach, they all become overpowering to the point that he’s whimpering with the need. 

“ _Please_ ,” he begs, the word sounding like it’s coming from someone else entirely. “Touch me.” 

There’s a bit of the devil in the bloke’s eyes when he lifts his head up from where he’d been sucking on Robert’s nipple to stare him straight in the eye for the third time tonight and say, “No.” 

_No_. 

Fuck. 

“I want… want to see you c-... come. Like this,” he elaborates. 

And _oh_. That’s his game. Okay then.

Robert presses his head back into the pillow behind him, continues chewing his bloodied lip to stop himself from screaming hysterically as the bloke’s lips begin sucking a mark into his neck. And it only takes another minute, but it’s one that feels like a lifetime, before Robert gives up all control and comes. Untouched. Unmoored. Un-fucking-believable. 

It’s as if something breaks apart inside of him, spills over all the shattered pieces littering the bed. And he’s just barely able to hear the bloke whisper the words, “ _fucking… beautiful_ ,” before he’s coming as well. Erratic thrusts of his hips coming once, twice, three sharp times before he collapses in a sweaty heap on top of Robert’s spent and broken body. 

They lie there for an indeterminate amount of time, both of their breaths heaving in their chests, and Robert is surprised by how much he wants to touch him. He’s not a cuddler, not soft when it comes to random fucks, but the only thing he wants in the world right now is to be able to run his fingers gently through the bloke’s hair. 

He doesn’t, though, because something about the man tells him it wouldn’t be appreciated. A theory that’s proven correct when a minute later the bloke sucks in one final deep breath before pulling out of Robert gently and rolling off the bed. 

He disappears into the en suite, presumably to rid himself of the condom, but he surprises Robert for not the first time tonight when he comes back with a damp towel that he drops on Robert’s cum-covered stomach. 

“Cheers,” Robert says, his voice hoarse from all the action it’s gotten. 

“No problem,” the bloke says as he goes about collecting his clothes and that… well that just can’t happen, can it? 

“What are you doing?” Robert asks, because that was, hands down, the best shag of his life. And no one walks away from something like that without at least a second go-around. 

“I need to be somewhere,” he replies vaguely as he slips first into his boxers then his jeans. 

“You can’t be serious?” Robert asks, embarrassed by the slight hint of desperation in his tone. 

“Look, mate, all I was looking for was one night,” he says, his voice muffled as he pulls his black striped jumper over his head. 

The action makes his hair stand up in a dozen different directions. Robert will _not_ allow himself to find that endearing. 

He leans back on his hands instead, still stark naked and well on display as he smiles crookedly and says, “The night isn’t over yet.” 

The bloke looks at him, one corner of his lip pulled between his teeth in a way that makes something stir in Robert’s belly that should still be asleep for another ten or twenty minutes at least, based on past experience. 

And then, of all things, he shrugs. The bloke actually _shrugs_ before dropping his jacket back to the floor and climbing up to Robert, fully clothed and full of purpose. 

“I suppose I could stay for a few more minutes,” he purrs as he reaches down to grab Robert’s cock. And it’s not exactly what he was angling for, but he’s not too proud to take it as his whole body comes alive again from just this bloke’s touch. 

They don’t speak. They don’t even kiss. All they do is stare into one another’s eyes until Robert is so close to coming he can’t keep them open anymore and it shouldn’t be intimate. It’s a one-time fuck in a mid-range hotel. He doesn’t even know the bloke’s name. The bloke is still fully clothed. And it’s not like a hand job is anything special. 

It shouldn’t be _anything_ , but when he opens his eyes to find the bloke still staring at him, something almost lost and soft in his expression, it’s not the fact that he’s coming that makes Robert whimper. 

“Feel better now?” the bloke asks as he wipes his hand off on Robert’s soiled towel before wiping off Robert again as a courtesy he never would've expected out of tonight. And all he can do is nod dumbly as the bloke leans over and kisses him one more time with the same soul-sucking ease he’s shown all night. 

“Good,” he whispers against Robert’s lips, and then he’s gone from the bed, reaching down for his jacket and putting it on. And the only thing Robert can think to do is blurt out, “What’s your name?” because for some reason, it matters. 

The bloke turns around, studying Robert with something that looks almost like sadness in his eyes before he replies, “I’m nobody.”

And just like that, he’s gone. 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s started to rain by the time the taxi pulls up to the Mill, freezing drops slanting into Aaron’s face as he throws some cash at the driver and makes his way up the drive. 

He doesn’t know what he feels, what he’s _supposed_ to feel, so he lets the numbness take over, scrubbing at his tired eyes with the hand not clutching the bottle of vodka he’d picked up at the off license on the way home. 

He did what he set out to do. He found a bloke. He fucked a bloke. Simple as. And now he just wants to burn the memory from his skin in a scalding hot shower and curl up into a ball for twenty-four hours. 

Clyde greets him as soon as he opens the door. The dog’s legs aren’t what they used to be, but he still manages to practically bowl over Aaron with his excitement. And it feels good, a tiny shred of peace before he hears movement from over on the sofa.

It’s Ed. Of fucking course it is. 

“Why are you here?” Aaron asks from where he’s still rooted beside the front door. A safe distance away, though who he’s actually protecting is up in the air. 

“I live here.” 

Ed’s voice is sleep worn, rough around the edges in a way that used to make Aaron’s knees weak but now just cripples him in an entirely different way. 

He stands up straighter as if that will keep Ed from seeing how broken he is. His voice a band of steel when he crosses his arms and replies, “No, you really don’t.” 

Ed sighs like _Aaron_ is the one being difficult here. “You can’t just chuck me out then disappear and expect me to pack my bags and leave like it’s nothing, Aaron. We need to _talk_.” 

Aaron scoffs. “Talk? About what? How you fucked another bloke behind my back? How you’ve been making a mug of me for months? Is that what you want to talk about because honestly, I’m too fucking tired to hear your excuses right now. Save ‘em for someone who gives a stuff.” 

Ed gets up at that, the blanket he’d been using - Aaron’s favorite one, he notices - falling to the floor as he makes a move toward where Aaron’s standing. When Aaron backs up, though, fitting himself into the safety of the corner near the door, Ed freezes. 

“You cheated on me,” Aaron chokes out, hating how desperate he sounds. 

Ed’s face crumples into something so full of pity it makes Aaron’s stomach roll. “I said I was sorry.” 

Aaron snorts. “Oh right, cheers, I forgot everything’s forgiven then. Let’s just go to bed, shall we?” 

Ed mirrors Aaron’s pose, all the way down to his crossed arms and annoyed expression. “Do you really have to be sarcastic right now?” 

“Do you really have to be in my house right now?”

Ed reacts as if he’s been slapped, and Aaron’s not too proud to admit that it almost makes him smile. “ _Your_ house?” 

“I’m the listed owner, ain’t it?” 

“So two years of living together means nothing to you?” 

Aaron comes out of the corner then, into the light so that Ed can see clear as day how much he loathes him. 

“It didn’t seem to mean anything to you.” 

Ed’s not giving up the fight. Aaron can almost see him digging in his heels, which is a trait he’s always hated mostly because it clashed with Aaron’s own desire to always be the most stubborn person in the room. 

“We haven’t had sex in months, Aaron. I thought you’d gone off me. And every time I tried to talk about it you’d just disappear into your shell.” 

Ed pleads with him as if it’s a valid excuse, his voice careful like he’s poking a bear. But it doesn’t make Aaron feel angry, it just makes him feel sad. Pathetic. Useless. Which is why he lashes out. 

“Not used to people refusing to fall at your feet, eh? The great Ed Roberts, Perfect Boyfriend and Rugby God? I’m sure Daniel or David or whatever his name is fell to his knees right quick for you.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Ed says, refusing to be baited, his voice all understanding and caring like Aaron needs any of that right now. 

“Oh really, and what’s that?” 

Ed takes a few steps towards him, almost within touching distance before he says, confidently, “Scorched earth. When something doesn’t go your way, you burn everything around you. Same thing happened last year with your father-” 

The word _father_ dies on Ed’s lips, his expression clouding over with guilt, with _sickness_ as he looks at Aaron like the penny just dropped. 

“Hang about, the one year anniversary,” he says quietly, but it’s more of a question than a statement. “Of his death… that’s when… Aaron, is that why you won’t let me touch you?”

Aaron grits his teeth, tightening his jaw so hard it’s painful as he stares Ed down, refusing to give in to his concern. 

“You can rest assured,” he says bitterly, “it’s not me, it’s you. And you wanna know how I know? Because I was out tonight, fucking another bloke, and everything seemed to work out just fine with ‘im.” 

The words have their desired effect as Ed’s entire posture sags and he takes a few steps back. It’s an attempt to put some distance between them, but Aaron can’t help but close it as he pushes, both physically and verbally, shoving Ed lightly and saying, “I even pulled out all the stops. Proper gold star shag. Had ‘im begging for it. And you know why I did it?” 

Ed has never looked so small in Aaron’s entire time knowing him. 

“To get even with me?” he asks, voice shaky and weak. But Aaron just shakes his head. 

“T’weren’t about you or Gordon, it were about _me._ Proving I was done with you. And I am.” He pauses, lets his words sink in before adding, “ _I’m done_.”

He goes back to the door at that, grabs Clyde’s lead and hooks him up, not even bothering to turn around when he says, “I’m gonna stay at the pub. You’ve got forty-eight hours to clear out before I report you for trespassing,” and goes before the guilt can catch up to him. 

He does what he’s always done best and _goes._

~*~

He and Clyde are soaked by the time they get to the pub, which is just one more reason to want to sneak in as quietly as possible. If his mum saw him in this state, she wouldn’t let him go without mithering him half to death. And all he really wants right now is to stop existing for a little while. 

The ascent to his room seems steeper than normal, and that, added to the way Clyde is wrapped around his feet, means he’s lucky to make it to the top unscathed. He breathes deeply once he finally gets there, though, the safety of his old room a comfort he needs as he sinks against the closed door, brings his knees to his chest, and buries his face in his hands. 

It’s only a few seconds before Clyde is licking whatever bit of skin he can find, soft whimpers coming from him as a cold snout presses at Aaron’s fingers, begging to be let in. And it’s all just too much right now, the tears pressing behind his eyelids too powerful not to be let out. 

He cries over Ed, over another person in his life leaving him behind, choosing something, _anything_ else over him. He cries over his mum, over Paddy, hearing bloody wedding bells only for Aaron to ruin it like he ruins everything else. And he cries over himself, the way he let Gordon in again, let him ruin something that could’ve been good if Aaron had given himself half a chance to let it. 

He cries and then he drinks, his face hot and sticky from the tears as he breaks the seal on the bottle of vodka he’s been holding like a lifeline and downs a quarter of it in one pull. Stretching his legs out so that Clyde can lay his head on his lap before he pulls his phone from his pocket and turns it on because he’s a Grade A muppet. 

He takes another swig as the screen changes to a picture of him and Ed after his last rugby match, their smiles sickening now in how bright they were. But he doesn’t have to look at the picture for long given the way his phone starts vibrating like mad with all the notifications popping up. 

They’re all from Ed, no surprise there. Aaron has done an excellent job these past few years of narrowing his life down to Ed, Ed, and oh yeah, _Ed._ Which only makes them ending sting that much worse, knowing that on the other side, he has absolutely nothing left. 

He reads through some of the texts, flat out ignoring the voice messages. They’re all _please come home_ , _we need to talk_ , _I love you Aaron_ , the standard rubbish a cheater might say. But there’s one that catches his eye, stabs him straight in the heart. 

_I know you don’t want to do this._

The time stamp makes him sick with guilt, coming as it does right around the time he was balls deep in someone else. And just like that Aaron’s system is flooded with such a potent combination of shame and anger that it makes him throw his phone clear across the room. 

Judging by the noise and the way Clyde jumps he’s shattered it, but he doesn’t even give a toss at this point. What’s the cost of a phone when your life is falling apart, eh? 

He laughs, the sound bitter before it’s drowned in another swig of vodka. But the way his head tips back to drink makes his gaze snag on something across the room. 

_I bet you’ve got pictures of cars all over your flat_ , he thinks as he stares at the print over his bed. At headlights racing toward the camera. 

He takes another swig and looks down at his lap, the words, _I could see you with a dog,_ swirling through his head this time as he buries his fingers in Clyde’s thick fur. 

It makes him laugh, but there’s something different this time, something lighter, just like his voice when he asks, “You’re not angry lookin’, are ya boy?” 

He gets a sharp bark in return, his fingers continuing to smooth through Clyde’s fur as he makes his way to the bottom of the bottle. The world around him spinning so fast that eventually he has no choice but to shut his eyes to it all and forget for a bit that any of it even existed in the first place. 

~*~

Aaron groans in pain, a consequence of falling asleep on the floor raging drunk, his body curled in half and his legs pinned beneath thirty-five kilograms of German Shepherd. 

He tries his best to forget the night before, but it pries at the doorway into his mind. The man. Ed. And vodka. So much vodka. All of it jogging alongside the realization that he’s gonna have to face the world today. 

He hasn’t seen anyone other than his one night stand since he found out Ed was cheating on him. And the prospect of seeing anyone now is enough to make him want to crawl into his old bed and never come out. 

Clyde knows he’s awake, though. And based on the way he’s jumping all over Aaron, he clearly needs to go out for a waz. So unless he wants to clean up Clyde’s mess, he needs to get back on his feet and put one in front of the other. 

“Wait here,” he says as he pets Clyde’s head, his voice so hoarse it’s nearly unrecognizable as his own. “Me first, alright? I’m fit to burst.” 

Clyde clearly doesn’t understand what he’s saying, given that he’s a _dog,_ but he sits down regardless, which is as close to a win as Aaron will probably get today. 

When he goes to open the door to the loo, he nearly gets the life startled out of him by the knob getting ripped from his hand. But of all the people he imagined greeting him on the other side in the one and a half seconds he has to prepare, Vic is probably dead last. 

“What you doin’ here?” he asks, his voice sounding more affronted than he would’ve liked, judging by the way Vic’s face pinches into annoyance at his tone. 

“I could ask you the same question,” she replies, crossing her arms and using her tiny body to block his entry into the loo. Which is just what he needs right now. 

“I asked you first,” he says, refusing to admit how childish he sounds as Vic rolls her eyes at him. 

She flat out refuses to acknowledge him, asking instead, “Did you spend the night here? Did something happen? Did you and Ed have a row?” 

Each question gets louder, more panicked, and judging by the way it all cramps at Aaron’s stomach, he might need the toilet for something else entirely if she keeps sticking her beak in. 

“It’s none of your business,” he replies even though he knows Vic’ll never see it that way. “Besides, you never answered my question.” 

Vic side-eyes him but gives up on her interrogation in the end, thankfully. 

“Chas said I could change up here. Marlon’s taking the post-lunch rush so I can head out early today.”

“Head out early? You got plans or summat?” 

He doesn’t really care, but at least if he pretends he does he has a better shot at her not circling back to topics he’d rather delay for as long as possible. 

She rolls her eyes at him again.

“I’m helping my brother move in today. Remember?” 

He does not, in fact, remember. 

“Since when is Andy moving in with yas?” 

“Do you ever listen to me?” 

“Do you want an honest answer to that?” he asks cheekily, falling comfortably into their old routine. 

The way she slaps his arm proves that she’s nestled in as well. 

“It’s my other brother, Robert,” she says with a beaming smile as the name zings through Aaron’s system, memories of another Robert rushing to his mind before he can clamp them down. 

“He’s the… uh… the one that lives down in London, yeah?” he manages to spit out amidst the panic of a mind flooded with miles of naked, freckled skin. 

She nods, her expression proud now, the way Vic gets anytime someone she knows does something even remotely praise-worthy. 

It’s the same look she gives Adam on a regular basis, even when the feat is only downing a beer in ten seconds flat. 

“What’s he doing stopping with you?” Aaron asks with what’s actually becoming an admittedly mild, alcohol-soaked interest. If only because when Vic talks, she deserves people to listen. 

“He’s getting a _divorce,_ ” she replies, mouthing the last word like it’s some sort of curse. “His wife cheated on him with all sorts so he’s coming up here to regroup.”

Something lodges in Aaron’s throat just then, the thought of _cheating_ flooding him now instead. Of Ed’s lips pressing to his teammate’s when Aaron had finally gotten around to catching him. 

Vic says something else to him, but he doesn’t catch it this time. It’s why his only response is, “You what?” when she blinks up at him in expectation. 

“I said do you want to help us move him in? Four pairs of hands are better than three. Might even shout you a pint afterward if you’re lucky.” 

“No, I’ve got, um… busy. I mean I _am_ busy. Plans. Got plans,” he stumbles, his skin feeling sweaty at the thought of being around someone else like him. Someone else with the words _betrayal_ and _lies_ carved into their skin. 

She shrugs, temporarily oblivious to Aaron’s internal struggle, her voice still cheery as ever as she says, “You’re alright, we’ll just make Adam do all the heavy lifting. But no complaining to me when he’s a whiny baby at the yard tomorrow.” 

“Right. Yeah. Well if you don’t mind…”

Aaron lets his comment hang as he glances longingly at the loo behind her, and it’s like Vic has suddenly realized that maybe Aaron was standing outside for some reason other than to have a chat. 

“Oh!” she squawks. “Sorry! It’s all yours. Want I should tell Chas you’re up?” 

“She knows I’m here?” Aaron says, dread dripping down his spine. 

This time when Vic shrugs, there’s a slight hint of worry in her eyes reminding Aaron that he really needs to watch his tone of voice around her. If anyone could read the locked tight book that is Aaron Dingle, it’s Vic. It’s always been Vic. 

“She was gonna come see if you wanted lunch a while back but I convinced her to let ya have a lie in.”

“A while back?” he asks with something almost like fear in his voice. 

“It’s half two, Aaron. You’ve been asleep all day.”

_Bloody hell,_ he thinks. Not only does he have no hope of getting out of the pub undetected, but given his behavior, there’s no way he’ll escape a grilling from his mum before he leaves. 

“Thanks for, uh, letting me sleep,” he says because he honestly has no other words inside his head. 

And the worry is only deeper in Vic’s eyes when she says, “Ta,” and gives Aaron full access to the door to the loo. “You sure you’re alright? You never did say why you were-”

“I’m fine, Vic,” he interrupts because there’s no way he’s letting her finish that sentence. “Just a little hungover. Catch ya later, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Catch ya later.” And with that, she thankfully walks away, giving Aaron at least a few moments of peace before he goes down to face the one woman firing squad no doubt lurking in the back room, waiting for him to surface. 

~*~

He manages to take Clyde out and almost finish making a brew, two cuppas because he knew he wouldn’t be alone for long, before his mum pops out of the woodwork. 

“Saw Vic leave,” she says with the fake brightness she uses when she doesn’t wanna spook him. “She said you were up and about.” 

“Yep,” he says, making sure to offer the bare minimum to keep her off his back as he carefully pours the milk into each mug. 

“Is Ed out of town or summat?” she asks as Aaron carries the two warm mugs towards where she’s standing beside the table, handing her one and getting a quiet, “Ta,” in return. 

“No, he’s not,” he says as blandly as he can, then blows over the top of his tea, keeping his face schooled in neutrality. 

“He come down with a bug or something, or…”

She makes sure to leave her question hanging in the air between them, and Aaron could draw this out all day if need be, lead her on with drips and drabs without really saying much at all. But he’s tired, and he hurts, and all of a sudden he just wants his mum. 

“We’re done,” he blurts, like pulling off a plaster. Elaborating with, “Me and Ed,” when she looks like he’s slapped her.

“But… but what…”

“He cheated on me, mum. He’s _been_ cheating on me with one of his teammates. I just found out and… we’re done.” 

There’s a long pause where all the air seems to be sucked from the space between them, and then she’s practically diving at him, grabbing him round the neck and pulling him in. And Aaron wouldn’t ever admit it, even if you put a gun to his head, but right now he feels like a kid again, like he’s lost and broken and the only one that can put him back together is his mum. 

“I’ll kill him,” she hisses in his ear. “I’ll flaming kill him.” 

For some reason it makes Aaron laugh, a wet sound that borders on hysterics as he hugs his mum tighter and laughs into her neck. 

“What’s so funny, young man? I am a very threatening woman.” 

“Sure ya are,” he manages to spit out between cackles, only she’s laughing now too. Both of them are laughing and crying and holding on for dear life in a way he never thought he’d have with her when he was young. 

“Oh baby,” she says softly once the laughter has died down, leaning back to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “It will be alright, you know. I’m gonna make this all better, I promise.” 

“Thanks, mum,” he whispers, and he means it. More than anything, he means it. 

~*~

He’s sitting in the pub that evening, curled into a corner booth, staring off into space and wishing there wasn’t a lying, cheating scumbag still living in his house so he could just go home and take a shower. Clyde doesn’t seem to mind the change of venue, sacked out as he is on the sofa in the back. But Aaron isn’t lucky enough to feel the same. 

Once he bought the Mill, and especially once Ed moved into it, he never wanted to have to come home again. 

That’s what he’s thinking of when a giant, dark shadow obscures his vision and plops down next to him, lying on the bench with his head plonked in Aaron’s lap. 

“Kill me now, I’m done for anyway,” Adam groans as he kicks his feet about like a child. 

Aaron pushes him up, elbowing him until he’s at least a meter away from him. 

“You stink,” Aaron says, his face scrunched up in disgust. 

“Yeah, well so do you, pal. Guess we’re even.” 

Adam smiles at him at that, and it’s like every time he does, Aaron is a teenager again, oversized t-shirts, trackies, snapbacks and way too much aftershave. 

“How’d the move go?” he asks, pretending to care cause he still feels guilty about being a bad friend to Vic earlier so maybe he can make it up by indulging Adam. 

“You mean how’d it go movin’ Vic’s posh, Londontown brother’s cement-filled bags into _my_ house while he spends the day bossing me around like he’s upper management?”

“That good, eh?” 

Adam groans deeply at that, pulling a small smile from Aaron’s lips before he rests his head on the back of the bench and asks, “Get me a pint, will ya? I don’t think my legs work.” 

“You’re so pathetic,” Aaron laughs as he slaps Adam on the back of the head, dodging his retaliation before moving to the bar to get them both a pint. 

This is what he needed. _This_ , right here. 

Adam has switched sides of the booth by the time Aaron gets back, facing the rest of the pub in a way Aaron still doesn’t want to. And they just spend the next few hours drinking and eating chips, laughing at things that aren’t even remotely funny. Which basically means Aaron is feeling good for the first time in two days. It’s why his stomach plummets when Adam looks over at the door and groans. 

His first instinct is to think it’s Ed. But then he remembers that Adam doesn’t know about the breakup so as far as he’s concerned, Ed is still a mate. And you don’t groan like that at mates. 

“What’s the problem now?” he asks as he turns around and tries to see through the packed pub to the side of the bar near the door. 

“Vic and Robert are back from dinner. Was hopin’ I wouldn’t hafta see ‘im ‘til tomorrow."

Adam pauses for a second wherein Aaron can see nothing but a bit of blond hair poking above the crowd before finishing, “Maybe they’ll swerve us and go… nope, they’re comin’ over. Look sharp, Dingle lad.”

Adam takes a moment to reach over the table and slap his arm, shove him with his leg to try to get him to sit up straighter. But Aaron didn’t want to meet this Robert bloke in the first place, and now that he’s found out he’s a ponce…

Well, let’s just say he doesn’t really care if he looks a right mess right now. 

“Thought I’d find yas slackers here,” Vic says brightly as she settles next to Aaron’s side of the table. “Wanted to introduce my big brother to my best mate.”

“Who said I’m your best mate?” Aaron teases as he pokes her in the side. But before he can carry the joke any further, the big brother in question sidles up next to Vic and looks right at him. 

“Robert, this is Aaron. Aaron, Robert,” Vic supplies, but the words are fuzzy in his ears, hollow like an echo as he stares up into familiar green eyes. 

He can’t breathe. He’s _not breathing_. 

“Nice to meet you, Aaron,” Robert says as he extends a hand. And Aaron can feel everyone’s eyes on him, waiting for his reaction, so even though he’s afraid of what touching Robert will do to him right now, he still shakes his hand. 

Everything comes back to him with a jolt, the way Robert’s skin felt, the way he tasted, the noises he made, how he felt around him, how it felt inside him, _everything_ just floods back as he looks up in shock, jealous of how normal Robert looks right now like there’s nothing to bother him here. 

Like the night before meant nothing. 

They sit down at the table, Robert on Adam’s side and Vic next to Aaron, and Aaron tries to pay attention to the conversation. He really does. But he’s hyper aware of his body right now, of the fact that he’s wearing the same clothes he’d picked up off Robert’s hotel floor. Of the fact that he probably still smells like Robert, like sex and need, if anyone were to lean close enough to notice. 

And then he sees it, tucked into the collar of Robert’s paisley shirt. A hickey. A flaming hickey that Aaron put there and he can’t deal with this right now. He _can’t_. 

“Need the loo,” he mumbles as he trips out of the booth, practically crushing Vic in the process. 

He can breathe a little better once he’s on his own and able to splash some cold water on his face. But it’s not enough. He needs to _leave_ only everywhere he turns, there’s a reminder of what a shite life he has. 

The sad old bedroom. The ex-filled house. The pub showcasing his most recent mistake. There’s just nowhere to go and his head is pounding with the reality of it. 

“Get it together,” he hisses at himself, gripping the sink with whitened knuckles and staring at himself in the mirror. That doesn’t really help either, though, because all he sees is the unkempt beard and the bags under his eyes. 

So he closes his eyes, tries not to imagine the way Robert’s face had looked when he’d come and fails miserably because that’s all Aaron is good for these days. Epic failure. 

The door opens while his eyes are still closed, and he assumes it’s just a punter. It’s why he stands there for another few seconds, trying to calm himself down. Only eventually it becomes obvious that whoever entered hasn’t moved from the door. 

It’s Robert. Of course it’s Robert. And Aaron wishes he were even slightly good at reading people because right now, Robert might as well be a blank sheet of paper. 

“Are you following me?” Aaron asks, his voice like the sound of scraped gravel. 

Robert leans against the wall and smiles slightly like this is all a game.

“Hello, Aaron. It’s good to see you again, Aaron. How’ve you been, Aaron?” 

“Answer the question.” 

Robert huffs. “You really have no manners, do you?” 

“No, but I do have two fists and I’m sure they’d love punching you in the nose.” 

Robert laughs at the threat, the right git. 

“Did I follow you? You mean into the loo? I guess you could say I followed you in here.”

“Very funny,” Aaron bites. “I mean here, Emmerdale. Did you follow me here?” 

Robert rolls his eyes and in that moment, he’s every bit of Vic and it makes Aaron ache. 

“Yes, Aaron, I followed you here. See, I work for MI6. We’ve been watching you for months, hoping to recruit you.” He pauses, letting the sarcasm soak in. “Of course I haven’t followed you here. How could I? Up until twenty minutes ago I didn’t even know your name.”

Aaron stares at him, careful to keep his eyes no lower than Robert’s chin.

“I came here because this used to be my home and because, I’m sorry to say, it’s going to be my home again for the foreseeable. Though, to be honest, I’m not going to say this part isn’t a pleasant surprise.” 

Aaron snorts at that, the words, “In your dreams,” slipping out of his mouth before he realizes that might not have been what Robert was referring to at all. 

It only makes Robert’s smile deepen though, pull into the same one he remembers from the night before, all cat that got the cream and Aaron wishes that he didn’t find it attractive. 

Things would be a lot easier if he never found Robert Sugden attractive. 

It doesn’t matter now, though. None of it does. All that matters is escaping. So he says, “I wish I could say it’s been nice catching up, but…” and makes a move for the door. Just before he’s managed to get out, though, Robert’s voice drifts to him. 

“Nice outfit, by the way,” he says smoothly, teasingly. And that. Well, that’s a thing that happened, isn’t it? 

He goes. Again. Making a pit stop at the table to say goodnight to Adam and Vic before heading back up to his bedroom of teenage sadness. But he doesn’t feel as safe there as he did last night, his eyes settling on the car print again, on memories of Robert he wishes he didn’t have. 

Robert who is downstairs. Robert who is Vic’s bloody brother. Robert who noticed that Aaron was still wearing the same clothes Robert pulled off him not twenty-four hours ago. And Robert whose heartbeat Aaron can still feel in his palm if he tries hard enough. 

Robert’s smile. Robert’s smell. Robert’s skin. 

And right now Aaron really wishes he hadn’t finished that vodka last night because he could really use a drink or twelve. He’ll have to settle for the buzz still pressing through his veins, though, because there’s no way in hell he’s going back down to the bar. Not tonight. So he curls up again, this time in his bed, and waits for sleep to take him, all the while forcing himself _not_ to think of Robert bloody Sugden. 


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron. 

His name is Aaron. 

From the moment he clapped eyes on him again, that’s the only thing Robert has been able to focus on. 

He has a name, a face, a presence, a _life_. He isn’t a figment of Robert’s sex-starved imagination. He’s painfully _real,_ and his name is Aaron. 

It plagues him through the rest of the evening, through the tedious ramblings of his sister’s hapless husband and the years’ worth of well-meaning gossip supplied by Vic herself. Through pint after pint, feigned laugh after feigned laugh, all the way up until someone with a severe fringe that Robert’s fairly certain is Chas Dingle rings a giant bell and calls time on everyone. 

He wants to find him, wants to follow him into that back room, dig around until he discovers where he’s hiding. Wants to take his hand, take his hip, claim his lips. Robert has never, in his life, felt this kind of _want,_ and it terrifies him at the same time that it makes him feel so much more alive than he ever thought possible. 

He really needs to get a grip, basically.

It’s hard - no pun intended - when twenty-four hours ago he was having the best shag of his life, and Robert has had quite a lot of shags in his life to compare it to. Aaron was something special, though. Something powerful, something all-consuming, and something Robert never thought he’d be allowed to have again up until a few hours ago. 

Settling into his too small bed in his sister’s too small box room that night, that’s what he thinks about. _Opportunity_. Robert is a master of opportunity. He knows how to take one and run with it, mould it into something bigger, something _more_. It’s why Chrissie fell in love with him and truly, that’s all he needs to do here, isn’t it? Remind Aaron of that spark they both had to have felt the night before and get him to let Robert set fire to it again. And again. And again. 

Easy. It should be bloody easy. But every time Robert tries to formulate a plan his mind keeps circling back to one thing: _His name is Aaron._ And while that’s a useful bit of information, it’s nowhere near the solution to his problem. 

He’s lying there hours later, still wide awake and aching in his briefs, his fingertips massaging gently through a thin layer of cotton, without a plan even in that capacity. The ceiling is a faded white, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the curtains Robert forgot to draw while Robert is left wondering how he got so bloody hard from just _thinking_ about Aaron. And not even in a sexual way. In his mind, Aaron is just standing there, waiting to be directed. 

He wants to draw it out. His last orgasm had been too quick, like a punch to the gut, but he has time now to do it his way. So it’s all soft touches and light pressure as he allows his mind to finally supply vague memories of the night before. The way Aaron had smelled like beer and cheap aftershave. The way his muscles had felt like granite beneath Robert’s fingers. The way his beard had felt as it scraped against Robert’s inner thighs. 

It’s all going smoothly, slowly, until Robert slicks up two fingers and shoves them up his arse. Then? Well, then all bets are off. 

The memories are deeper now, what it had felt like to have Aaron weighing him down, fingers gripped around Robert’s wrists, cock buried in his arse. Everything hot and heavy as Robert pushes down his boxers and works himself in earnest, pulling and twisting, hand slicked up with precum, until he’s coming hard, blinding white, with only one word on his lips. No prizes for guessing what that word is. 

Needless to say, Robert finds no rest that night. 

~*~

Robert literally cannot believe that Vic’s mardy best mate - the one she’s spent years gushing about down the line and the one she bafflingly lost her virginity to - is his fit hookup. That’s what really gets him when he finally rolls out of bed and makes his way downstairs for breakfast - _full English, Rob! Welcome home!_

He knows Aaron, in a two degrees of separation sort of way, but still, he _knows_ him. Which is why he can’t figure out how someone that good in bed, that dead sexy, that _interesting_ can be friends with Adam flipping Barton. 

Adam is talking about actual _hijinks_ at the breakfast table. And while it sounds like Aaron wasn’t exactly a willing participant in all of them, let’s just say he never would have associated the terms _quad racing_ and _pig sty_ with the man who shared his bed, albeit briefly, the night before last. 

Aaron is alive when Adam talks about him, something Robert only saw quick flashes of during their time together. But even though imagining Aaron covered in mud and the other disgusting contents of a literal pig sty is repulsive, the story still makes him smile. 

“Fair play, I thought he was gonna _murder me_ , or have Cain do it for ‘im. No matter how many times I told him I didn’t _mean_ to run him off. Shoulda seen the look on his face, though. It was a right picture!” 

Adam laughs. Or, actually, he _guffaws_. But it’s the smile of bemusement on Vic’s face that really catches Robert. 

“He was dead grumpy for weeks after that,” she says softly, as if Aaron is here, now, and she just wants to embrace him. And it reminds him of all the bad times, the kind of stuff that’s typical for most teenagers but the things Robert should have been here for, been _her brother_ for. And that, bloody hell _that_ sends Robert’s mind spinning. 

_He’s on the bridge again, a sea of black in front of him, two young lads flanking Victoria at the foot of their father’s grave and neither one of them is Andy. But both of them are holding her hands._

“Rob?” he hears, piercing through the memory. 

The smile on his face is forced now but at least it’s still there when he says, “Yeah?” 

“I asked if you wanted any more food but… you alright? You look a little like you’re on another planet.” 

“M’fine, Vic. Just didn’t get much sleep last night s’all.” 

She looks horrified in a way that almost makes him chuckle when she asks, “Was there something wrong with the bed? I know it’s not what you’re used to down in London, but I tried-”

He cuts her off by placing a hand over hers and squeezing. “The bed is fine, Vic. I just have a lot on my mind lately.” 

“Of course,” she says with a shake of the head that seems to dispel the conversation entirely. “Well, I need to get ready for work. And you,” she adds, letting go of Robert’s hand so she can lean over and place a kiss on Adam’s cheek. “Better get going to the yard. Don’t wanna put Aaron in a mood.” 

Robert’s spine straightens involuntarily at the mention of Aaron’s name, Aaron _in the present,_ not just in some daft teenage story. And his head fills with so much static that he almost doesn’t catch what Adam says in reply. 

“Naw, he text me, said he weren’t gonna be in today.”

“Did he say why?” Vic asks thankfully because if she hadn’t spit those words out, Robert might have. And that would have been awkward. 

“No, why? You reckon something’s up?” 

Adam looks worried at that, a strange expression on such a genial face. But once again it’s Vic that arrests Robert’s attention. 

“No,” she says brightly, _too_ brightly, her face pulled into a smile that looks miles from real. “I just… uh… was worried he caught a bug or something.” 

“Right, well, if that’s the case I’m staying well away. Aaron is a _nightmare_ when he’s sick. Let Ed deal with ‘im.” 

Robert’s brain stutters. “Who’s Ed?”

“Oh his boyfriend,” Vic says with a literal wave of the hand, as if the information is of no consequence. “They live over at the Mill.”

“Wait, Aaron has a boyfriend?” Robert asks before his brain realizes that the Robert Vic and Adam know would have no reason to care about that little gem.

“You got a problem with that?” Adam shoots back, sitting up straighter in his chair and doing his best to look menacing. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Robert says, one step away from making a _pfft_ sound and really giving the game away to Vic if not to the human brick wall that is Adam Barton. “I just thought it might have been something that warranted mentioning, that’s all.” 

Vic gives him a funny look, one that drags all the way up Robert’s spine before she says shiftily, “I’m sorry I never casually dropped my best mate’s sexuality into conversation with you before. I didn’t know it would be a _thing_.”

Robert leans back in his chair and puts on the most casual expression he owns. “No one said it was a thing. I’m just wondering why, in all the gossip, it was left out. Does Adam need to be worried?” 

The man himself doesn’t get what Robert is implying, judging by the lost dog expression on his face. But Vic finds the line just fine as she sputters and says, “As if! Even if Aaron weren’t gay, he’s just a mate, and I would never.”

“Never again, you mean,” Robert says cheekily, continuing the ploy of turning everything on Vic so no one looks at him. 

But Adam still asks, “Never what?” because, as in everything apparently, he’s a few steps behind. 

Robert rolls his eyes. “I was implying that my sister might want to… keep Aaron to herself, so to speak.”

The penny drops finally, judging by the way Adam looks distinctly like he wants to vomit. 

“Alright, it’s time for work,” Vic interrupts, shooing her hands at the table like Robert and Adam are a pair of pesky flies and not her two closest relations. And that is the end of that. 

Robert sighs in relief as the two of them disperse, Vic upstairs to get ready and Adam out the front door to get to work, while Robert mulls over the reality of this boyfriend and the fact that Aaron seems to be up for a bit on the side. 

Aaron didn’t seem like the type to cheat. Robert isn’t really basing that off of anything other than gut feelings, but going on his first impression, Robert never would have guessed that Aaron was a cheater. Not that that’s a turn off, of course. It’s just… interesting. Somehow, some way, Aaron just got even more _interesting_. 

~*~

Robert was never good at hide and seek, as evidenced by the fact that it takes him nearly the whole day to find Aaron. And given how small the village is, that’s a pretty pathetic outcome by anyone’s estimation. 

He comes across him eventually by sheer accident, wandering around like he is, his legs pulling him towards the old cricket pavilion where he used to neck cans of beer whenever he was able to sneak away from the farm. 

There’s a rush through his system when he sees Aaron, part shock at actually finding him and part excitement over the fact that he’s still a real, live, human person. One who is currently throwing a large stick for an even larger German Shepherd. 

He knew he had a dog. 

He tries to approach Aaron cautiously, the way he was taught to with horses that might spook and kick you in the head. But eventually his excitement gets the better of him and he’s practically jogging to the middle of the field. 

“Hiya,” he calls when he’s close enough to be heard. 

Aaron looks at him blankly, his voice so devoid of emotion it can’t be anything but a carefully made front. “For someone that’s not following me, you’re certainly in a lot of places where I am.”

“Not a crime to walk about the village, is it?” Robert replies brightly, channeling his inner Victoria. 

“It is if it’s in aid of stalking someone.” 

Robert laughs, giddiness bubbling over because there’s difficult and then there’s _Aaron._ And for some reason, he finds it nowhere near as off-putting as Aaron likely wants it to be. 

“Good afternoon to you too, Aaron. How was your evening, Aaron? Did you sleep well, Aaron?” 

Aaron quirks his head and studies Robert for a moment, his eyes boring into Robert’s skull like lasers. “How comes you keep doing that?” 

“What?” Robert asks, legitimately confused. 

“Saying my name like that, over and over. It’s weird.” 

“It’s so I can remember it,” Robert says confidently, even though the real answer leans more towards _it’s because I like the taste of it on my tongue_. Probably not the best thing to say right now, though. 

“It’s an old business trick, usually accompanied by copious amounts of handshaking, but I don’t fancy my hand being slapped away so I figured I’d let that part of the ritual go.” 

“So you just say a person’s name over and over and…”

“ _And_ you remember it quicker. Solidifies it in your brain or whatever.” 

“Why do you care about remembering my name?” 

Robert can’t stop the groan that rips from his throat as he looks up to the sky for some kind of help. 

“Are you always this difficult to converse with, or is it just me?” 

Aaron considers him for a moment before one corner of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly. “Reckon it’s just you.” 

“Well good thing I don’t give up that easily, eh?” 

Aaron’s entire face squishes into the mardiest frown Robert has ever seen, and he literally has to force his brain not to find it adorable. 

“So, this your dog, I take it?” Robert asks when it becomes clear that Aaron is in some sort of full system reboot. 

“You what?” 

Lord help him, why does he find this man so bloody attractive? 

“Dog. Yours. Stick. Fetch. Any of that ring a bell?” he replies while pointing at the offending animal, sitting at Aaron’s feet and leaning slightly to the left thanks to the weight of the stick currently held in his mouth. 

“Clyde,” Aaron says, simple but effective, and pretty much the only thing he can manage right now, judging by the way his face is still doing that thing where it looks like he wants to be a crumpled up paper ball when he grows up. 

“Pleased to meet you, Clyde,” Robert says in his best professional tone as he crouches down so he can be eye level with the dog, one hand reached out like he’s actually expecting him to return the shake. 

He does, one muddy paw plonked in Robert’s hand and it makes him laugh as he says, “Your dog has better manners than you do,” because it’s funny. 

Every single thing about his life since he met Aaron has been _funny_. 

“Oh pull the other one,” Aaron bites back, system finally restored. But when Robert looks up, there’s actually a smile on Aaron’s face. And it’s like the clouds parting on a rainy day, like sunshine slanting across the morning sidewalk, like…

Ugh. He really does need to get a grip, doesn’t he? He’s actually waxing poetical. Gross. 

Somehow, they segue into a companionable game of fetch. Aaron and Robert take turns throwing the stick, the only sound around them the rush of the wind as they slowly freeze in the midwinter air. And it’s peaceful. Not as fun as taking Aaron into the cabin and spreading him across the floor would be, but peaceful at least. And right now, Robert will take that. 

Eventually, though, the peace is shattered by the presence of another person, a dark skinned man with large muscles and the look of someone that’s been punching himself emotionally, repeatedly on a loop. And Aaron immediately has his hackles up. 

It’s like Robert can feel the shift in the air, tension bleeding into the space around them. And his first instinct is to help, to lead Aaron back to a few moments ago when life was easy and relaxed. But all he can do is remain frozen in place as the bloke stops dead in his tracks a few feet in front of Aaron. 

“Can we talk somewhere… private?” the bloke asks, his voice sounding like a plea as he tips his head down and looks up at Aaron through his lashes, his eyes darting to Robert every few seconds in a way that makes Robert stand up straighter, bolder, ready to claim his newfound territory if need be. 

“No,” Aaron replies bluntly, almost angrily. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of my mate.” 

Well, that’s an interesting development. 

New Bloke seems to agree, based on the incredulity in his tone when he flaps, “Mate? Since when have you got mates?” 

He has the decency to cringe at his own words, at the insult blatant within them, but Robert still feels like he wants to deck the guy and he doesn’t even know his name. 

“You know, I do know people other than you,” Aaron spits back, all venom and fangs. “Robert and I happen to be good mates.” 

New Bloke looks confused at that. “Robert? As in Vic’s brother?”

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. 

“You’re mates… with Vic’s brother.” 

“Is there a point to this conversation, or have you just come to hassle me?” Aaron snaps, his posture so tense he looks like he could snap in half if pushed the wrong way. 

“I wanted to talk about… about _things_ ,” New Bloke says sheepishly. But Aaron shuts him down immediately. 

“Well that’s too bad, because Robert and I were just about to head into town for a drink.” 

_We were?_ Robert thinks, grateful that he manages not to say the words aloud and ruin the game. 

“Actually, our taxi should be here in a few minutes,” Robert adds to the ruse instead, checking his watch for effect. 

Aaron looks at Robert with something akin to gratitude in his eyes, sending a flood of warmth to his stomach that makes him want to reach out and touch so badly it hurts. 

“See?” Aaron says. “Our taxi should be here in a few minutes. So why don’t you just do one. Your forty-eight hours are almost up. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work still to do.”

That part… doesn’t make sense, but Robert just lets it go and stands there confidently like he’s privy to everything going on here. Because they’re _mates_ now. And mates… know stuff. 

“ _Please_ ,” New Bloke says quietly, _painfully_ , a last ditch effort to get Aaron to listen. But New Bloke has to know what Aaron’s response is going to be. Even _Robert_ knows that. 

It’s why he’s not shocked in the slightest when Aaron says a bitter, “I said do one,” and walks out to where Clyde is basking in the frozen bit of sunshine. 

“You heard him,” Robert says because he just can’t help himself. And with one final look of confusion, New Bloke walks away. 

That was odd, right? That felt very odd to him. 

“Who was that?” Robert asks when Aaron returns to his side, Clyde’s lead hooked up and the stick lost to the field. 

He seems unable to look Robert in the eyes when he replies, “Nobody.”

That’s obviously not true, but this is also not the time to press. So instead he says, “Shall I call the taxi, or do you want to?” 

Aaron’s head whips towards where Robert is standing so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if he sprained his neck. 

“What for?” 

Robert relaxes his body, faux casual. “You did say we were going into town for a drink, didn’t you? That we were mates? You have to sell it if you don’t want to look like a liar.” 

“You tryin' to be my friend or summat?” Aaron asks because of course that’s the area he’d zero in on. 

Robert’s gut punch reaction is _no_ , he does not want to be Aaron’s friend. He wants to be _more_ than that. But he’s starting to worry that’s not on the table at the moment, so he says, “Yes, Aaron, I am trying to be your friend. Why is that so hard to believe?” because at this point, he’ll take what he can get. 

You have to start somewhere, right? 

“It’s hard to believe because we had… because we…” Aaron trails off there, opting for hand gestures instead that Robert supposes are supposed to be dirty but really just involve Aaron flapping his hands about and poking at the air. And suddenly, blindingly, Robert realizes that he’s gone already. That whatever this is, he’s in it, for better or for worse. 

“Because we had sex?” Robert asks, mostly just to watch Aaron squirm. “I know we did. Aaron. I was there, remember? That doesn’t mean we can’t be mates.”

“It doesn’t?”

The soft, unsure way that Aaron asks that question is so… _cute_ that Robert needs a sick bucket. 

“No, it doesn’t. Besides, this is a small village. We’re bound to run into each other. Might as well make it official.” 

Robert reaches his hand out at that, hoping that Aaron won’t notice the slight tremor in it when he asks, “Mates?” 

For a second he thinks that Aaron isn’t going to take it, but then he does, his palm slipping electric against Robert’s as he echoes the word, “Mates,” and smiles that barely-there grin that Robert is starting to find irresistible. 

In the end, it’s Robert that calls for the taxi. 

~*~

“So tell me about yourself,” Robert asks before licking the foam off his top lip. 

They’re sitting at a bar in Hotten called Bar West, and even though Robert doesn’t usually like gay bars if he’s not on the pull, Aaron had truly relaxed for the first time all day when they’d stepped inside, and that had been more than enough for Robert. 

Aaron’s chosen form of foam removal is to swipe the back of his hand across his mouth before he chucks out a laugh and says, “Are you really trying to make small talk?”

“Give me a break!” Robert says as he settles back into his seat. “The last time we did this we sort of skipped this part. Couldn’t keep your hands off me if I remember correctly.” 

Robert winks at Aaron to show him he’s winding him up, that there’s no nefarious purpose for his comment. And the way Aaron squints at Robert, skeptical but not suspicious, tells him he’s hit the right note. 

“What do you wanna know?” he offers begrudgingly. 

Robert leans onto the table, forearms pressed to sticky wood yet again, putting himself almost into Aaron’s space before smirking. “Let’s start with that bloke at the pitch.” 

Aaron throws his head back and groans, baring his throat and causing all sorts of inappropriate images to fly through Robert’s head at warp speed. 

“I told you he was nobody.”

“And funnily enough, I’m not an idiot,” Robert fires back, leaning further forward, as close as is physically possible with the stupid table in between them. 

Aaron bites his lip, causing something warm to flow through Robert’s veins before saying, “That was Ed.”

Robert… was not expecting that. 

“That was your boyfriend?” he asks, tamping down the excitement he feels at knowing there’s at least some amount of trouble in paradise. 

“How did you know he’s my boyfriend?” Aaron shoots back, that suspicion he was lacking before out in full force now. 

“MI6, remember?” Robert tries, but the joke falls completely flat. So he opts for honesty instead. “Vic said something at breakfast today, about how you live with this bloke called Ed. Interesting relationship you two’ve got. In the middle of a barney are ya?”

“No,” Aaron says, sadly now which just makes things all the worse. “He’s not my boyfriend. Or at least not… not anymore.” 

Aaron pauses for a maudlin second or two before something seems to click in his mind. 

“Hang on, you actually thought I’d sleep with ya while I was in a relationship with someone else? What kind of bloke do you think I am?” 

Somehow, Robert thinks replying, _the kind that I could take back to the bogs and have my wicked way with,_ won’t quite work here. So he says, “We all do things we’re not proud of,” which is probably the truest thing he’s ever uttered in his entire life. 

“Well not that,” Aaron replies, affronted like some sort of pissed off cat. “I’d never do that to someone. I mean, you of all people have gotta understand what that does.”

Robert freezes. Top to bottom, outright bloody _freezes_. His voice practically chattering with it when he asks, “I should?” 

“Yeah, sorry, but Vic told me about your wife.” 

Robert’s heart stops. 

“How she cheated on you.” 

Robert’s heart starts again. 

“So you should get it. It’s why I broke up with Ed. He… well, he played away, and I just… I can’t do that, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Robert croaks, taking a sip from his beer in order to hide the tremble in his _everything_. “I know.” 

He doesn’t. He _really_ doesn’t. Not from that angle anyway. But something tells him that if he’s honest with Aaron now - if he tells Aaron how _he’s_ the cheater, how Chrissie found him in bed with both her sister and his bit of rough Connor and Robert only told Vic the opposite because he didn’t want her to hate him - Aaron would run a mile and he'd never see him again. 

It hurts, though. Something about lying _hurts_ , which is just ridiculous. Robert Sugden does _not_ have a conscience, thank you very much. He must have just eaten something funny today. And truly, all Robert wants right now is to push this, see where it goes. So he’ll let future Robert worry about honesty. 

It’s never suited him anyway. 

~*~

They’re four beers and an indeterminate amount of shots in, laughing their heads off and sitting practically in one another’s laps as they play Never Have I Ever in the middle of a packed bar. And basically, Robert is having the time of his life. 

“I’ve never worn a three-piece suit,” Aaron supplies, his cheeks pink in a way Robert has only seen mid-sex, his posture loose as he leans right into Robert’s personal bubble and slams a shot on the table in front of him. 

“Bloody shame, that is,” Robert murmurs before downing the shot and wrapping his arm over Aaron’s shoulders so he can pull him closer to his body, feel the heat wafting off his skin in dizzying waves. 

“I’ve got one!” Robert exclaims before lowering his voice about an octave and leaning even further into Aaron’s space, whispering in his ear, “I’ve never had a quickie in a public loo.” 

He takes the shot, tries to analyze Aaron’s face, the way his eyes remain eerily locked with Robert’s, so blue he could cry. And he almost does it, leans in that last bit, presses his lips to Aaron’s, _takes_. But before he gets the chance to, Aaron is removing Robert’s arm from his shoulders and standing up from his stool. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” he says, his voice rough in a way that is sexier than Robert can really handle right now. But then he leaves, leaving Robert cold and confused and more than a little horny. 

He watches Aaron cross the bar, watches him lean in to whisper something in some random bloke’s ear and then… _fuck_. 

Then Aaron is leading the bloke back to the bogs. 

Robert waits… and waits… and waits… regret and pain and anger pulsing through his body for seventeen straight minutes before Aaron returns from the loo, thankfully alone. 

He finishes doing up his belt and sits on his stool, runs one hand through his mussed up hair while he uses the other to down the shot in front of him, shivering a little in the process. And Robert wants to find the man that Aaron was with and ritualistically murder him. 

“You alright?” Robert asks because he can’t think of anything else to say and Aaron isn’t speaking at all. His eyes finally connecting with Robert’s as he says, “I think I’m ready to go.” 

His expression is dead, absolutely, flat out _dead_. Which doesn’t help Robert’s murderous tendencies as he says a quiet, “Okay,” and follows Aaron out of the bar. 

They don’t talk as they wait for the taxi, don’t talk once they’re inside. Nothing is said at all before the car pulls up in front of Vic’s cottage and it all leaves Robert more rattled than he’d care to admit to. 

All he can think about is the last thing Aaron had said the night they met. How he was _nobody_. And Robert spends the majority of the night wide awake worrying that that’s actually what Aaron believes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of self-harm. Nothing too graphic, just know that it's there.

His flat is freezing when Aaron walks into it. Stumbles, maybe. He’s probably stumbling at this point. It’s freezing, though. It’s _late_ , and usually by now he and Ed are tucked up in bed, the boiler set to lower the heat as the night wears on because they have each other to help keep them warm. But there’s something else about the cold tonight, something different, and it takes Aaron longer than it probably should to realize what that is. 

He’s alone. 

It’s surprising that Ed actually listened to his ultimatum. Surprising, not disappointing because Aaron is not some pining halfwit, and he wanted him gone. He did. He’s just a little shocked that Ed did as he was told is all. Not like him, that is. 

He expected more of a push back, if he’s being honest with himself. More than five minutes of vague pleading on the cricket pitch at least. But maybe it’s better this way. A clean break is always easier to heal. Aaron has learned that lesson one too many times in his life. 

At least he doesn’t have to spend another night at the pub with his mum’s eyes constantly on the cusp of bloody leaking every time she looks at him. 

His first destination is the shower, figuring he’ll pick Clyde up from the pub tomorrow before work, allow himself the quiet tonight. But when he goes to take his clothes off, something stops him. 

There are hands on him, strange hands, _rough_ hands, pressing under his jumper, shoving his jeans around his knees. And it still hurts, if he lets himself think about it. A deep ache literally inside of him from the way the bloke had done as little prep as possible, and just like that Aaron is lunging for the toilet. 

He retches until there’s nothing left, until he’s so hollowed out there’s an echo inside his ribs. And then he rests his cheek on cold porcelain and lets himself cry. 

It didn’t feel like this with Robert, didn’t feel this raw, like his whole body is an exposed nerve pulsing to his heartbeat. It’s been years since he’s felt this dirty, not since he was a kid. So he wipes the tears from his face, tears his clothes off as thoughtlessly as he can, and throws himself into the hottest shower his skin can withstand. 

He scrubs until he’s as raw on the outside as he feels inside, skin puckered and red, angry looking as he stares down at it, but it’s not enough. He needs _more_. Needs something, _anything_ to wipe this feeling away and that’s when he sees it. 

Ed’s razor.

In the end, that’s enough to make things quiet again. 

~*~

He’s been standing over his and Ed’s bed for at least twenty minutes, his legs falling asleep from remaining in one position for too long. The curtains are wide open, so the room is flooded with moonlight, dancing shadows across the walls. And Aaron is too afraid to lie down in his own flipping bed. 

The whole room smells like them, like _him_. Like the posh laundry detergent Ed forced him to use years ago because Aaron’s cheap brand made his clothes feel like cardboard. Like Ed’s mint and eucalyptus shower gel that Aaron always mocked but secretly used whenever he was playing matches away from Leeds. Like the smell of two sets of skin, of cohabitation, of a bloody _life_ that Aaron needs to learn to live without now, and there is no possible way that he’s sleeping in that bed tonight. That he’s sleeping in it ever again, maybe. 

So he goes downstairs, curls beneath his favorite blanket and pretends that he’s not smelling the last person who used it, stares at the ceiling and begs for sleep to find him somewhere in this hell he’s living in. 

He should’ve known it was pointless to bother. 

~*~

Clyde is outside, sniffing pieces of metal, Adam is on a job in York, and Aaron is staring at a mound of paperwork like it personally offended him. 

Typical Tuesday, that. 

He’s better than he was the night before, or he’s functional at least. Which given that he works at a scrapyard, it’s pretty much his baseline for normality. But paperwork is simply beyond him right now, tracking down payments, settling accounts, ringing customers. His head is just too mashed to do any of it, which is unlucky for him because if Adam comes back to Aaron having done nothing, he’s gonna start asking the questions he was oblivious enough to swerve this morning. 

His heart leaps into his throat when he hears a car pull up outside, Clyde’s welcoming bark accompanying tyres on gravel. But when he looks at the clock, he realizes it’s far too early for Adam’s return. He’ll be gone until after lunch at least. Which only really leaves one option for who’s about to walk through that door. 

“I don’t need you checking up on me, mum,” he says as the door opens, three useless knocks preceding his mum’s entrance into the portacabin.

His eyes are cast down at the document in front of him to give off the air of someone that’s in the middle of some very important business-related work. But his heart leaps right back into his throat when he hears the voice of the new arrival. 

“If you’re saying I look like your mum, I’m going to have to take that as an insult. Not that Chas isn’t fair looking, in her own right, but she just doesn’t put me in mind with most people.” 

It’s Robert, standing there in Aaron’s portacabin, still somehow in Aaron’s _life_ , holding two coffees and smiling this soft smile that makes Aaron want to punch a wall. 

He should’ve done a runner after last night. Apparently, Robert is dumber than he looks. 

“What do you want, Robert?” Aaron asks as he flips to another piece of paperwork that he has no intention of reading. 

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Last night, you seemed a bit…” He trails off, dropping his inquiries dead on the floor. And when Aaron looks up, he doesn’t get what he’s expecting. There’s no cockiness there, no innuendos, there’s nothing but _concern_. And somehow, that’s worse. 

“Can we not talk about it?” Aaron asks as he looks back down at his desk, his stare getting blanker the longer this conversation progresses. 

“About what?” 

“Any of it?” he asks with a shrug. “I was drunk. That’s all there was to it. I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re alright-”

“We?” Robert interrupts, and the hopeful lilt to his voice makes Aaron’s stomach cramp so bad he almost has to buckle over. 

“It was a figure of speech. You know what I mean. I’m alright, you’re alright, we, _separately_ , are both alright. So there’s no point in talkin’ about it.”

“Sure,” Robert says, all breezy like a spring flipping day. And Aaron is about a half a breath away from telling him to piss off when he adds, “Whatcha doin’?” 

Aaron looks up at him with an expression that probably looks like Robert just asked him to solve a complex math equation. 

“I only ask because,” Robert continues as he makes his way over to the desk, setting down the two coffees, one in front of Aaron and one across from him like Robert’s planning on staying, “I thought you’d be outside, smashing stuff.” 

“I’m doing accounts,” he grumbles because there’s no way he can even begin to pretend that he likes doing this. 

“Really? Because it looks to me like you’re shuffling a load of papers all over your desk and hoping the accounts magically do themselves.” 

Aaron looks down again at that, his vision a little clearer now as he takes in the haphazard piles pressed to all corners of his desk. 

“Yeah, well, it’s doin’ me head in,” he grumbles even _harder_ than before, proper belly grumble this time, not just from the throat, as he moves the papers so that they’re at least in a single stack. Sort of. Close enough. 

“I can help, you know,” Robert offers as he pulls Adam’s chair up to the desk and reaches across to grab the stack of papers. 

Aaron wants to ask him why he’d do that, but he’s getting a little sick of asking Robert that particular question. So he just says a hopeful little, “Yeah?” Because if a gift horse wants to walk up to him and do his annoying paperwork, he’s not gonna look him in the mouth. Or the eye. Wherever you look at gift horses. 

“Yeah,” Robert replies with a smile, getting up so he can go around to Aaron’s side of the desk, kneeing the back of Aaron’s chair to get him to stand up. “You go smash some metal and I’ll see what I can make of this. Deal?” 

“Deal,” Aaron replies, rising from his seat so that Robert can circle around it. 

Their bodies press together as they switch places, and every point of contact is electric, slicing into Aaron’s bones as he holds his breath and bites back the moan that wants to escape him. His mind so distracted that his foot gets caught in the wheels of his chair and, because Aaron’s life is terrible now, he starts falling. 

Robert’s reflexes are faster than Aaron’s today, so he’s able to catch Aaron before he cracks his skull on the floor. Matters are only made worse, though, because now Robert is actively touching him, one hand on Aaron’s left bicep, the other on Aaron’s right hip. And Aaron is so tired, so miserable, so _done in_ that he almost just melts right into Robert’s embrace, burrows into his chest like some sort of daft child. 

He doesn’t, though, because he’s an adult. So he takes a step back, then another one, then a third, mourning the loss of Robert’s hands on his body as he moves towards the door.

“Thanks for… that,” Aaron stammers, waving his arm in the general direction of the desk. But even he’s not sure what he’s thanking Robert for - the paperwork or the quick grab of Aaron’s damsel in distress. Not like it matters, anyway. Not like _anything_ does really as he grabs his jacket and vest and heads out to smash some metal. 

At least there’s one thing Aaron’s good at. 

~*~

“Fancy a brew?” Robert asks as soon as Aaron turns off the saw. There’s a newly detached door on the ground from the car he’s dismantling and a newly racing heart in Aaron’s chest because he wasn’t expecting someone to be standing right behind him for God knows how long like some sort of weirdo. 

“How long you been standing there?” he asks as he sets the saw carefully on the ground and pulls off his safety glasses. 

Robert stuffs his hands in his pockets and ducks his head, kicking at some stones beneath his feet. “If I said only a few minutes, would you believe me?” 

“No,” Aaron replies bluntly, his skin starting to tingle from the idea of Robert watching him work. “But yes, a brew would be ace.” 

“Lead the way,” Robert replies with a sweep of his arm. And Aaron can’t help the crooked smile breaking across his own lips.

“Is this just you tryin’ to stare at my arse some more?” 

Robert gasps, placing a palm flat over his chest. “How could you possibly think that?” 

Something bold presses through Aaron’s blood as he leans forward and rests his hand over the back of Robert’s, the frantic beating of Robert’s heart strong even through Robert’s hand. 

“Because I know you,” he says lowly, daringly, even though he knows that can’t possibly be true after so little time. But it’s a nice thought to have anyway, even if it’s short-lived. 

Aaron pulls back before going too far down the rabbit hole, his eyes blinking furiously as he flexes his hand a few times and turns back towards the portacabin so Robert doesn’t see the look on his face. Calling out a quick, “I’ll put the kettle on,” behind him as he jogs inside and plasters his back against the door. 

_Breathe, Dingle_. 

Now would be a good time to breathe. 

Whether in aid of giving Aaron some time to settle down or because he needed some himself, Robert doesn’t enter the cabin until the kettle is well on its way to boiling and Aaron is sitting in his chair. One eyebrow rising as Robert begins to prepare two cuppas. 

“How do you like yours?” he asks, still not looking at Aaron. Which is weird, given that he usually has to peel Robert’s eyes off of him. 

“Two sugars and a load of milk.” 

Robert laughs way too flipping softly for Aaron right now. 

“So basically you prefer it to taste nothing like actual tea?” 

“Look, mate, I don’t go around giving you stick over your taste in coffee, so leave my tea habits alone, yeah?” 

Robert turns his head slightly, just half of his face visible as he grins before saying, “Look at that, our first argument. One for the books, that is.” 

Aaron just rolls his eyes because Robert is an idiot. 

“Speaking of mates,” Aaron says, a poor segue as Robert sits in Adam’s seat and sets their mugs on the desk between them. “I think if we’re gonna call each other that, I should know a little something about you, shouldn’t I?” 

Robert blows across the top of his mug and takes a careful sip. “What is this? The sharing and caring hour?” 

Aaron just stares at Robert, his eyes full of the dare boiling in his stomach. 

“What do you want to know?” Robert asks eventually on the tail end of a deep sigh. 

“Alright,” Aaron says, leaning back in his chair to make himself more comfortable and placing his boots up on the desk, hugging his warm mug close to his chest. “What about what you did in London.” 

It’s like Aaron just asked him to tell his deepest, darkest secret, judging by the way he shuts his eyes and drags his palm heavily across his brow. “I worked in sales. Farm machinery.” 

That doesn’t seem too bad. 

“For my father-in-law’s company.”

Ah. Got it. 

“That must’ve been hard… when…”

Robert waves him off, all trace of his previous discomfort gone, or at least better hidden. 

“It’s fine. I’ll be getting a big payout soon, so it’s not all wasted.”

“Were you married long?” Aaron finds himself asking like he just can’t help it. 

Robert stares at him for a few drawn out seconds. “No. Not quite a year, but we were together for two more.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron replies, and he even surprises himself with how true that statement is. 

Robert shrugs. “It’s alright. Things end.” 

And that… well, that sounds exactly like Aaron’s type of nihilism right there. 

“What about you and Ed? How long were you together?” 

Aaron would’ve guessed that a question like that would knock him for six. But for some reason, it doesn’t. 

“A little over three years as well, lived together for most of it. Kinda went too fast at first. I was getting over…” 

He thinks of Jackson, then shoves him back in his box. 

“Well, I was getting over _something_ anyway. Dove right in without thinking much about it, asked him to move into this house I’d bought when the scrapyard started taking off. And then… well…”

“Things end?” Robert asks. 

Aaron nods. “Things end.” 

“Look, Aaron,” Robert starts, placing his mug on the table so he can lean closer to where Aaron is pushed in the corner. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, though, before the door is flying open. 

Aaron didn’t even hear Adam pull up. Funny, that. 

“Hiya, lads!” Adam says as soon as he realizes that Aaron isn’t alone. “What you doin’ here, Rob?” 

Robert drags his eyes away from Aaron slowly, reluctantly, if Aaron had to guess, before the mask he’d seen when he first met him slips down over his face. 

“I’ve been helping Aaron get the accounts settled. Made a pretty large dent before you came and interrupted.” 

Robert doesn’t sound disappointed - there’s not enough emotion in his voice to cover that. But there is a hint of something bitter there as he goes to stand up. 

“I could come back tomorrow if you like? Cover some more ground?” 

“Yeah,” Aaron blurts out immediately with a softness that’s foreign these days. “That’d be great.” 

“Vic’d kill me if we let you out of here without some sort of compensation, though,” Adam says before Robert can reach the door. “I’m sure Aaron would’ve been lost without you.”

His heart pounds at that comment. At the truth behind it. 

“I’m sure Aaron knows how to take care of himself,” Robert says, and the words are almost like a pair of teeth, dragging up his spine. 

“Still,” Adam replies, completely incapable of reading the silent conversation going on here. The one Aaron has felt building from the moment Robert walked into the pub a few nights ago. 

“Hows about we shout you dinner at the pub? Drinks on me, food on Aaron? We made enough on the York job to cover it a hundred-fold.”

Robert looks back at Aaron, almost like he’s asking for permission. And the small nod of Aaron’s head, coupled with the even smaller smile on his face, seems to be enough. 

“Dinner sounds great. Meet at the pub in an hour?” 

“Sound,” Adam replies as he plonks into the seat left vacant by Robert. 

“Yeah, sound,” Aaron adds, everything about him just so quiet right now that he can’t understand how Adam doesn’t notice. Though what he’d actually be noticing is up in the air. 

~*~

The pub is crowded for a Tuesday night, the frigid air outside driving everyone to the warmth of a good meal and a stiff drink. The mob keeping his mum busy enough that he doesn’t have to worry about her interrupting his night. 

He’s the first one there, a good fifteen minutes early because barring a quick shower there was no reason for him to stick around his empty flat any longer. He even had time to take Clyde for a short walk, leaving him sacked out on the sofa in the back like it’s his second home. 

Now all he can do is wait, sitting in the same booth he was hiding in the night before last. 

That’s where Robert finds him, one foot up on the bench and his eyes taking in what Robert’s wearing for maybe the first time ever. Not because Robert doesn’t dress nicely but because… well… he’s usually focusing on _other_ things at the time. But tonight he looks… good. Real good. In spite of the fact that his pale blue button down has flipping patches on the elbows. 

Robert stares at the table for a moment, at the empty seat next to Aaron and the even emptier bench across from him. And for a second, Aaron thinks he’s going to sit next to him. He even does this little shuffle towards Aaron’s seat before squinting his eyes and evidently thinking better of it. 

Aaron doesn’t even want to consider how much he wishes Robert had gone for option B. 

“You alright?” Robert asks with a polite nod once he’s seated, taking a sip of one of the three pints Aaron had purchased when he got here. 

“Yeah. You?” 

“Yup. Good. Cold night out there tonight.” 

“Eh… okay?” 

“Is this winter colder than normal, you think? Or does every winter just feel that way?” 

“What the hell are you on about?” Aaron asks before Robert can spout any more nonsense. 

He looks innocent. Too innocent. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I know I’ve only known you a coupla days, but you don’t strike me as a _let’s chat about the weather_ type,” Aaron says, putting his foot on the ground so he can place his forearms on the table and lean in. 

“Well what would you like to chat about, Aaron?” Robert asks, mirroring his pose. 

“I don’t know, Robert. You’re the one that loves the sound of your voice.”

“Be honest, Aaron. I’m not the only one at this table that loves the sound of my voice.” 

“That’s a whole lotta confidence coming from the guy with elbow patches.” 

“And that’s a whole lot of sarcasm coming from the guy perpetually dressed for a funeral.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Aaron, one that’s mirrored by Robert until they’re both just staring at each other, smiling and laughing like a coupla muppets. 

“I thought Adam was buying the drinks,” Robert supplies with a wink once they’ve both calmed down, the pint glass sweating in his hand, condensation dripping down his fingers in a way Aaron can’t help but track. 

“Yeah, well, if we waited on ‘im we’d be gasping by the time we got one,” Aaron says with a shrug that feels uncomfortable on him. Too casual to fit. 

And it’s almost like he can feel it as it happens. The way he shrinks into himself, curls into the shell that Ed was always banging on about only now, he doesn’t think he wants to go there. He wants to be here, now, with Robert. So he pushes back at the walls, digs his heels in and shoves as hard as he can until he can feel the table beneath his forearms, the ground beneath his feet, the heart beating in his chest. 

“So what was it like, living in London?” he asks, not because he wants to be polite but because he _wants to know_. Something, anything, _more about Robert_. 

“It was,” Robert begins, clearly weighing what he wants to say before offering, simply, “Nice.” 

“Nice?”

“Yeah.” 

“It was nice?”

“Yes, Aaron, living in London was nice. I don’t know what you want me to say. It was a big city. It was fast and alive and nothing like here so yeah, it was nice. You’ve never been?” 

“Of course I’ve been,” he replies, trying not to sound offended given that he’s fairly certain Robert wasn’t trying to insult him… this time. “It’s just… living there. It’s different. And you seem like the type of bloke to thrive in that atmosphere.” 

“Well the Dales aren’t without their charms,” he says quietly, his eyes going soft, out of focus as he looks out at Aaron. And it feels like one of them snake charmer things, or a car crash more like. Aaron can’t look away, basically, which is why he doesn’t notice that someone else has come up to the table. 

When he does look down at jean cuffs and a pair of work boots, he assumes it’s Adam. Only the voice that says, “This seems cozy,” does not belong to Aaron’s best mate at all. 

_Bloody hell, not now_. 

“You sure know how to pick your spots,” Aaron practically growls as he looks up at where Ed is standing beside him. 

“And you sure know how to pick your company. This some sort of date?” 

“Even if it were, it’d be none of your flaming business. Remember that ‘do one’ from yesterday?” Aaron pauses so he can sweep his arm across all the area in front of him. “That’s what they call all purpose. Means it covers tonight. Matter of fact, it covers _every night_. So why don’t you just take the hint and _back off_.” 

Ed huffs at him, and it’s the gesture more than anything else that makes Aaron realize what’s going on here. 

Ed is drunk. Off his face, by the looks of it. Which means Aaron needs to get out of here, _now_. 

He goes to stand up, figuring Robert can fend for himself, his destination the back room, as quick as he can get there. But the second Aaron makes a move to leave the table, Ed pushes him back down. 

It’s not a rough move, not nearly as hard as it could’ve been given the fact that Ed plays rugby for a living. But it still manages to get Robert’s back up immediately. 

“Listen, mate,” he says, getting to his feet so he can stand next to where Ed is still looming over Aaron. “I think it’s time for you to go.” 

“Funny,” Ed replies, his voice so full of hurt Aaron would feel bad for him if not for the fact that half the bar is already zeroed in on what they’re doing. 

“I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he finishes, pressing his hands into Robert’s chest and shoving him, hard this time. 

Robert manages to keep his feet under him, but it’s a barely there thing. The other half of the pub focusing in on their booth now as Aaron takes the opportunity of Ed’s distraction to get to his feet. 

“You need to leave. _Now_ ,” he says forcefully, which also means _loudly,_ which means he’s more on display. 

“What? You barring me?” Ed asks with a laugh that sounds more like a sob than anything. 

“No, I am,” his mum joins in from behind the bar where she’s moved to be nearer to the ruckus. “Cain, you wanna sort this?” 

“Be glad to,” Cain says as he materializes from nowhere, pretty much like usual. And Aaron can’t watch this. He can’t watch his uncle throwing his boyfriend… his _ex-boyfriend_ from his mum’s pub like he’s in some sort of daft soap opera. So he bolts, cuts straight behind the bar and towards the back room because he can hide there. And all he wants to do right now is _hide_. 

Robert follows him through because of course he does. And Aaron is about to tell him to piss off as well but any words he might have said are cut off with a gasp when Robert grabs his forearm. 

“Aaron, are you… what’s wrong?” Robert asks, and he’s pushing up on the sleeve of Aaron’s jumper before he can stop him, his eyes landing on the poorly bandaged cut on his left arm. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” his mum says as she further invades his space. But instead of letting his mum find out as well, Robert hides the cut from her, tugging the sleeve of Aaron’s jumper back down and letting go of his arm before taking a few steps back from him, leaving enough space for his mum to come in and hug the life from him. 

“I’m alright, mum,” he says as he pats her back awkwardly, his eyes locked on Robert’s the whole time. 

She leans back but still grasps his shoulders, refusing to let him go. “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t see him come in, else I would’ve sent him packing straight away.” 

“It's fine, mum. People were gonna find out anyway. Probably best to just rip the plaster off in one go, let the rumour mill handle it.”

His mum frowns at him, her eyes gleaming with tears. Which is not something Aaron wants to deal with right now. 

So he says, “Look, mum, could you just give us a minute?” half to get rid of her and half because he needs to be alone with Robert _right now_. 

She glances between him and Robert a few times, trying to figure out the puzzle but coming up empty in the end when she says, “I need to get back to the bar anyway. Don’t want Charity to kill me in my sleep.”

She attempts a weak laugh at that, but it still sounds wet, full of all the tears a mother can shed for her poor, abused baby boy. Which only infuriates him further, that feeling of helplessness he gets sometimes just by being in her presence. 

“Listen,” Robert says once they’re alone. “If you’re going to apologize for what happened out there, there’s no need. Trust me, I’ve had far more scandalous encounters than that.” 

“You don’t need to be in the middle of this, though. You just got back here. Last thing you need is some trumped up love triangle.” 

And shit. _Oh shit_. Do they…

“Does anyone know? That you’re bi?” he asks, his voice trembling as he says the words. 

Robert just smiles. Ruefully, he thinks the word is. He smiles ruefully and says, “The people that matter do,” and leaves it at that. He’s got other things on his mind, apparently. Namely the bandage on Aaron’s arm. 

When Robert goes to grab him, he flinches away pretty violently. But Robert just ignores his reaction, reaching out again to take Aaron’s wrist between his fingers. And Aaron doesn’t know what’s happening here, but he _does know_ that he feels safe right now. Safer than he ever did when Gordon’s return caused him to start cutting again and Ed inevitably found out. And that? 

That’s bloody terrifying. 

“Aaron,” Robert sighs when he takes the bandage off, running his thumb gently along one side of the cut. But he doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t judge, doesn’t fret, all he does is lead Aaron over to the dining table before gently guiding him to sit down. 

There’s a solid minute of Robert rifling around the kitchen before he finds the first aid kit. And then he’s sitting beside Aaron, still so silent as he begins to clean Aaron’s wound in a way he’d never bother doing for himself. 

When the cut is bandaged once again, Robert leans down and kisses it. And Aaron…

Something breaks inside of him, tiny and shattered and all Robert’s. 

He lifts Robert’s face up, cups his cheeks and presses his lips to Robert’s like he did in that alley, that lift, that hotel room. The kiss chaste at first, soft and tender before Robert moans and Aaron loses his head. 

He grabs Robert’s shoulders, pulls him in closer, wanting more, wanting _everything_ until something clicks in his mind and he sees it. 

Sees himself in that bar, taking a random bloke to the bogs. 

Sees himself in the shower, slicing into his skin with Ed’s razor. 

Sees a million different things, a million different flaws, and suddenly he realizes just how much he _doesn’t_ want Robert to be tainted by where his head is at right now. 

So he pulls away, drags himself from the moment and says, so quietly it’s almost inaudible, “I’m sorry,” because he is. More than he’s ever been before. 

“All we can be right now is mates. It’s… it’s all I’ve got.”

“I understand,” Robert replies as he runs his fingers gently through Aaron’s hair before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll wait.” 

Aaron wants to ask why, but he doesn’t. 

He can't. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of Gordon, rape, and self-harm.

If you’d have told Robert upon leaving Chrissie and his luxury flat in the center of London that within a month he’d be dossing in his sister’s box room, working out of a portacabin for a company called Holey Scrap while moonlighting as a bartender in a country pub, he would have laughed in your face. Or thrown a drink in it. One or the other. 

It’s where he finds himself now, though, twenty-five days into his new life in Emmerdale and twenty-four days into his new friendship with Aaron Dingle.

Robert’s never really had mates before. There was Andy, who became his brother and then the sworn enemy he’s managed to mostly avoid since coming home. And there’s Clive, he supposes, but he stopped checking up on Robert once he set foot in Yorkshire. Which just leaves Aaron. Grumpy, surly, sarky Aaron. 

He’s been Aaron’s mate for almost a month now. Twenty-four days of lunches at the pub, brews in the portacabin, and nights out in Hotten and Leeds. 

Twenty-four nights watching Aaron drag blokes off to the bogs or, on rare occasions, back to their flats while Robert wonders why it can’t be him. 

He never shags anyone more than once, as far as Robert can tell. And that would probably give him a sense of comfort if not for the fact that he doesn’t want Aaron shagging anyone _at all_. Or anyone not named Robert Sugden at least. 

But it’s not about what Robert wants; it’s about what Aaron _needs_. And if hooking up with random blokes is somehow helping him heal, then Robert can’t find it in him to begrudge him the fact. 

He said he’d wait. So even though patience was never his strong suit, he made a promise, and he intends to keep it. 

They’re up at Butler’s today, him and Aaron. There’s an old metal fence that needs removing and Moira had told Adam he could have whatever money he could get off it provided he did the labour himself. Which somehow got translated to _Aaron and Robert_ schlepping themselves up to the farm while Adam sits in a nice, warm portacabin twiddling his thumbs. 

He’s still not sure how that one worked out, but he also doesn’t mind the arrangement. A day with Aaron without Adam looking over their shoulders is always a bonus. And the way the snow is collecting in Aaron’s hair, on his eyelashes, across the broad shoulders that Robert just wants to touch, more than makes up for a day of work out in the freezing cold. 

It’s peaceful here. Quiet. So quiet, in fact, that the pair of them have hardly said two words to each other all morning almost as if they don’t want to disturb the wind. 

It reminds him of when he was a kid, before his mum died and everything in his life rotted to the core. Endless fields, rolling hills, and the great, wide sky spread out before him like he could have it all if he just reached out and touched it. 

His mind is lost in that, in the past, when a familiar voice wrenches him back to earth. 

“Moira asked me to bring these out for you. Don’t know why you need two sarnies, but I’m sure the other one won’t go to waste. Always someone around here willing to… oh.” 

Andy stops speaking the moment he sees Robert crouched down next to Aaron, evidently hidden by the hill he approached from. 

“You’re here, too,” Andy adds because he always was ace at pointing out the obvious. 

Robert stands, brushing the dirt and snow off his knees. “Yes, Andy, I am here. Great observational skills you've got there.” 

“Oh piss off, will you Robert?” he bites back, already with his back up. And Robert… well, Robert just doesn’t feel like fighting today. Maybe it’s that peace he’d been feeling a few moments ago, or maybe it’s Aaron (it’s probably Aaron), but the desire to ram the knife in and _twist_ just isn’t in him right now. 

“Thanks for the sandwiches, Andy,” he says instead, reaching out to take the two foil wrapped sarnies from Andy’s hand. And Andy’s face is just a _picture_ as he looks back at him, gobsmacked. 

“Eh, you’re welcome,” he says, but the words are more of a question than a statement. And thank God for Aaron because if he weren’t here, Andy might just stand there catching flies all day. 

“Yeah, cheers Andy,” he says, patting Robert’s brother on the shoulder and gently turning him back toward the way he came. “And tell Moira ta. We should be outta her hair in another hour or two.” 

Andy nods at Aaron, stunned into silence, before trudging back down the hill towards the house. 

“Here,” Robert says, shoving one of the sandwiches towards Aaron and turning away as soon as he takes it because he doesn’t want to talk about it right now. And Aaron’s whole body is telegraphing _sympathy._

He tries to find that peace again as he eats, the place in his head where Sarah still lives. But Andy’s mere presence for a minute and a half has ruined it, reminding him as it did of where he is, _when_ he is, and what he’s lost. 

They eat in silence, they go back to work in silence, Robert stares off into space in silence, but it’s not like before. And it makes him just want to crawl back into bed and sleep until his life is better. 

That’s when he feels it, as he’s standing there, staring into the middle distance, having himself a right little pity party for one. Something cold and hard colliding with the back of his head.

He turns in the direction from which it came, sees Aaron smiling like a little kid, and in his hand is…

Is that a bloody snowball? 

It is, in fact, a bloody snowball. Robert can tell from the way it smashes into his face, causing him to emit an undignified squawk that makes Aaron crack up across the way. 

“What are you, eight?” Robert asks indignantly as he wipes the snow from his face. But Aaron’s way of answering is crouching down and swiping up some more snow before Robert can even think of retaliating. 

This one hits him in the chest, right near his heart, and it’s like a switch flicking in the back of Robert’s head. 

“Oh, you’re dead, Dingle,” he says as seriously as he can manage, leaning down himself to gather up some snow. And he can’t remember the last time he did this - years ago with Andy, probably - but he also doesn’t care because Aaron doesn’t even try to dodge his first salvo. He lets it hit him square in the stomach, causing him to double over in feigned distress to cover the fact that he’s really just going for another ball. 

They have a snowball fight. They have an actual, honest to God, two children in a field snowball fight. And it makes Robert feel lighter than he has in ages. 

When his clothes are soaked and Aaron’s face is bright red from his laughter, Robert lunges for him, tackling him to the ground and pinning his arms to his sides. 

“Do you concede?” he asks, his voice pinched with laughter. 

“Never!” Aaron shouts as he squirms beneath Robert. 

“Well, then, you’ve left me no choice.” 

He releases one of Aaron’s arms at that, but before Aaron can think to shove him off, Robert is reaching next to him and grabbing as much snow as he can fit into one hand before rubbing it into Aaron’s face. 

He sputters in response, twisting his head back and forth to try and get the snow off of it, and Robert has never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. 

He runs his free hand gently over Aaron’s face, wiping the snow from his skin, and with the gesture the mood shifts like the moment before a thunderstorm. The air is crackling with electricity as Aaron reaches up, grips Robert’s elbow and blinks up at him with a look of wonder in his eyes.

Robert almost leans in, takes the kiss Aaron seems ready to accept, but he can’t. Last night Aaron left the bar with a tall redhead, and two days ago he had a slanging match with Ed in the middle of the street. Aaron isn’t _ready_ , they both know it, so Robert pulls back because Robert _always_ pulls back. 

He helps Aaron to his feet, helps him dust the snow off his back before they return to work as if nothing happened. Which is something they’re getting very good at. 

_Pretending._

~*~

He’s got a shift at the pub that night, all clean and dried off from his afternoon in the snow. And as is usually the case when Robert is working his second job, Aaron is there with him, holding up the bar and keeping him company. Or he was, anyway, until he started playing darts with Adam. 

Robert isn’t jealous. He’s just… bored. And annoyed by Adam’s laugh because Adam’s laugh is insufferable. He’s pretty sure if he did a poll, the vast majority of Emmerdale’s residents would agree with him. 

“Same again?” Adam asks while Robert is in the process of drying pint glasses, one of his favorite pastimes right alongside doing accounts and watching paint dry.

“I’ll get ‘em in,” Aaron responds as he practically bounds past Adam, which makes Robert smile. Half because he almost knocks Adam over - always a delight - and half because he knows what it means. 

Aaron wants to see him. 

“What you smilin’ at?” Aaron asks as he leans into the bar, his voice more _pretend_ grumpy than actual grumpy. Robert can tell things like that now. He knows Aaron well enough to _know._

He tries to control his face. Fails. “Nothing of your concern. What can I get ya?” 

“Same again, ta,” he asks, setting his and Adam’s empty pint glasses on the bar while Robert pulls out two clean ones. “And… uh… while I’m here… fancy a film night tonight?” 

Robert tips his head down and tries to hide the smile making a reappearance on his face. “You do know it’s my turn to pick, right?” 

Aaron groans, pulling Robert’s eyes back to his face. “Can’t be worse than those films about the hobbles or whatever.” 

“Hobbits, Aaron. They’re called _hobbits_.” 

“Whatever. The only thing those films were good for is acting like a flipping sleeping pill.” 

Robert feigns offense. Or, well, maybe it’s not _entirely_ feigned. “And Rocky is so much better? Watching an old man with a severe speech impediment punch somebody for two hours? Classic cinema, that.” 

“I’d shut up if I were you. Might just take back my invitation.” 

Robert puts the two pints down on the bar before holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. You win. I promise, though, you’ll love the one tonight.” 

Aaron raises an eyebrow at him. “Doubtful.” 

Robert tips his head back and forth a few times, weighing the possibilities. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But you’ll shut up and watch it anyway because you love me.”

Shit. He didn’t mean it that way. _He didn’t mean it that way_. But he said it. He _said it_ , and Aaron…

“Like Adam,” he adds before Aaron can react to what he just said. “Like how you love Adam. Like a mate. You know, how people love mates, like-”

“Robert,” Aaron interrupts, his voice far calmer than Robert expected it to be right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“Stop talking.” 

“Right. Stopping talking.” Which he does. Completely. Something that makes Aaron laugh. 

“What?” Robert asks, even though he’s breaking the rules. 

“Nothing, I just… didn’t know you had an off switch is all. Could come in handy that.” 

He almost replies that the only kind of switch he’s got where Aaron is concerned is an _on_ one, but he’s already said one embarrassing thing tonight, he doesn’t fancy adding a second. 

“Seven pound twenty for the pints, Mr. Funny Man,” he says instead, watching fondly as Aaron digs the notes from his pocket.

Their fingers touch when Aaron hands them over, and Robert looks up just in time to catch Aaron wink at him before he says, “Keep the change,” in a voice far deeper than is necessary for a transaction such as this one. 

He’s forced to take a dozen deep breaths so as not to get hard from Aaron’s voice alone. This is going to be a long night. 

~*~

Aaron shoves another handful of popcorn in his mouth, chewing around the words, “Why’s this bloke so pissed off again?” 

Robert sighs. “Because Kirk marooned him and his people on a planet where some of them eventually died, including his wife.” 

“And the thingy he’s tryin’ to get?” 

Robert pauses the movie so that they don’t miss anything important while he goes into recap mode. 

“It’s called the Genesis Device. It can turn dead matter into habitable worlds.” 

“That’d be dead useful,” Aaron says around another mouthful of popcorn. “We could all live on Mars or summat.” 

“Theoretically, I suppose.” 

“So what’s this Ken-”

“Khan.” 

“Right. Whatever. What’s this Khan bloke want with the Genesis Device anyway?”

“General bad guy destruction?” Robert answers with a shrug. “Is it alright for me to press play again?” 

“I never told you to stop it in the first place,” Aaron replies slyly, a small smile present on his lips that Robert is desperate to kiss away. He doesn’t, though. He _won’t_. So instead he presses play and tucks in for the rest of the film. 

Even though _Star Trek II_ is one of his favorite films, Robert’s long day catches up to him quickly. Which means he’s fast asleep long before Spock dies. When he wakes up however long later to a pitch dark room, though, he’s not alone. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened. Their film nights usually occur on the nights Robert closes down the pub, which means falling asleep on Aaron’s sofa is a regular occurrence. What’s not regular, though, is having Aaron’s head resting on his shoulder as he curls into Robert’s side, fast asleep. 

One of Robert’s legs is stretched out on the sofa, the other resting on the floor with his body buried in the corner. And Aaron is right there, one arm pinned beneath his own body and the other wrapped loosely over Robert’s stomach. 

As much as they’ve shared with each other, they’ve never had this. They’ve never literally _slept_ together. So even though Robert knows he should wake Aaron up and leave, he doesn’t. He _can’t_. 

Instead, he reaches up slowly, cards his fingers gently through Aaron’s hair, leaning in to smell his shampoo like a right weirdo. Instead, he hugs Aaron tighter to his body, not too hard to wake him but hard enough to make his heart race. 

Instead, he lets himself fall back to sleep to the sound of Aaron’s breath, soft and even as their bodies remain entwined in the dark. 

~*~

Robert wakes up alone the next morning to the thudding of Aaron rummaging around upstairs. And he’d almost be able to convince himself that last night was a dream if not for the fact that he can still feel the side of Aaron’s face pressed against his shoulder if he tries hard enough. 

He hasn’t slept that well in ages. Which is why he’s smiling as he stretches along the sofa, why he’s smiling _still_ as he moves to the kitchen to make them both some coffee and toast, and why he’s smiling _deeper_ when Aaron finally comes downstairs. 

He’s proper kitted out in running gear, all black because in everything he’s still Aaron. And Robert’s attention is so arrested by the way he looks, how the material hugs every part of his body, accentuating his muscles, that he doesn’t pick up right away on how the air in the room is tighter than normal. 

“I made coffee and toast,” he croaks out when the silence becomes taut. 

“No, you’re alright,” Aaron responds, the tone of his voice… weird. Strained. Like the Aaron of a month ago, not like the one who fell asleep on Robert while mocking his taste in films. 

“Is everything okay?” Robert asks, placing the plates of toast on the table so he can move closer to where Aaron’s standing near the door. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks, and that was a snap. His voice clipped, his expression tight. Only Robert can’t think of any reason why he’d be upset with him, unless…

Unless waking up in Robert’s arms this morning set him off. 

“Look, Aaron, about last night,” he tries to soothe, but Aaron just pulls a face like he’s sucking on a lemon. 

“Not everything’s about you, alright?” he says, and this time it’s anger, bold and clear. Anger that Robert is feeling as well now because really, where does he get off?

“When is anything ever about me?” he asks because he can’t help it. From day one, Robert has tried to be what Aaron needed, has bent over backwards to be what Aaron needed. So for him to say that? It hurts. 

“Whatever,” Aaron says flippantly. “I’m going for a run. You know where the door is.” Then he’s just… gone. And Robert is left wondering what he possibly did to deserve that. 

He wanders over to the cafe eventually, for lack of anything better to do. But not before dumping the toast and coffee in the trash as a symbol of how his morning went. 

He’d like to say he’s not speaking to Aaron again until he apologizes for his behaviour, but even Robert is not that deluded. So he waits, because that’s it, right? It’s all he’s good for. 

~*~

He eats lunch at the pub, the same as always. Minus Aaron, of course. Something noticed immediately because living in a small village is the worst. 

“Where’s your shadow?” Chas asks, all smiles and kind looks which is funny, given how much she hated his guts when he left all those years ago. 

“I don’t know, running?” he says bitterly with a shrug of his shoulders that he hopes conveys how much he does not want to talk about this. When he looks up at Chas’ face, though, something lodges in his throat. 

“Why’s your face look like that?” 

She shakes her head and tries to put on a smile like she would lipstick. In the end, it looks just as fake. 

“I don’t know what you’re on about.” 

“Chas,” he says, putting a little more emphasis in the word when she begins wringing her hands in front of her. “ _Chas_.” 

“Look, it’s… it’s probably nothing, alright? It’s just that, after his d-... after some bad things happened, he used to run as a way… as a way-”

“To hurt himself?” Robert guesses, lowering his voice so as not to be heard by all the busybodies in the pub. 

“You know about that?” she asks, and bloody hell there’s tears in her eyes now. This just keeps getting better and better. 

“A bit,” he says honestly because yeah, he knows that Aaron hurts himself, but they’ve never exactly talked about it in the past. 

Chas nods, reaching out to place her hand over the back of Robert’s resting on the bar. Which only amplifies his fear. “I’m sure it’s fine, though, love. It’s just one run. And he’s been in such a good place lately, ever since you showed up.” 

She pats his hand a few times then lets it go. 

“Yeah,” he says, even quieter than before. “I’m sure it’s fine.” 

But something tells him neither one of them believes it. 

~*~

Regardless of how worried he is, he refuses to let himself text, call, or look for Aaron. Instead, he spends the afternoon alone in his room, looking over the divorce papers Chrissie sent a few days ago. 

He can’t really get his head around it, though, his concentration shot even further when he gets a text from Aaron. 

It’s not an apology, it doesn’t even acknowledge what happened earlier. It’s just two simple words: 

_town tonite?_

But just like that, Robert can breathe again. 

He doesn’t really want to go, mostly because he’s dead positive Aaron will pull and he’s not sure how much longer he can stand that. But he also doesn’t want to leave Aaron alone when he’s like this, whatever this is. So he puts on a nice shirt and some jeans and heads out. 

Aaron looks good, that’s the first thing Robert notices when Aaron opens the door. He’s in the same black jeans he wore the night Robert met him, paired with a black button down that stretches across Aaron’s chest and arms, showing off his muscles in a way that literally makes Robert’s knees weak. 

To think, just last night Robert had those arms wrapped around him. 

And by the end of tonight, they’ll probably be wrapped around someone else. 

Sometimes he hates his life. 

“Taxi should be here in five,” Aaron says, his tone nothing like the one from this morning. The anger has seemingly bled from it, but it’s still weird, there’s still _something_ there. But Robert doesn’t have a chance to think about it before Aaron is shouldering his way past him and locking the door. 

Robert has no option but to follow. 

~*~

They’ve only been at Bar West for a couple hours, but Aaron has already gone through six beers and so many shots Robert lost count ages ago. It’s like he’s on a personal mission to get annihilated, and there’s nothing Robert can do about it because every time he tries to get Aaron to slow down he gets snapped at. 

Oh yeah, the anger? It’s back in full force. 

Any attempts to find the source of Aaron’s rage also come up empty as Robert nurses only his second beer so that he’s sober enough to watch over Aaron because that’s what mates do. At least that’s what they do in the pictures. 

Because Murphy’s Law is a real thing, though, Ed shows up a while later, just as Aaron’s drunken eyes are starting to droop. Which is just perfect. 

Did he mention this day has been bloody perfect? 

“Seems I can’t turn around without seeing you two together,” Ed says as he sidles up to their table, drunk as well judging by the way he almost slips and falls when he goes to lean against it. 

“Not tonight, alright?” Robert asks because Aaron is just staring at Ed like he’s lost the power of speech. 

Ed scoffs at him, before moving around the table and putting his hands on Aaron, which makes Robert see red instantly. 

“C’mon, baby, you know this is what you want,” Ed manages to get out before Robert’s grabbing his bicep. His _large_ bicep. And he’s almost close enough to kiss Aaron before Robert is able to jerk him back, an action that Aaron seems too stunned to swerve as he continues to sit there with this lost, pained look on his face. 

“Get off me!” Ed shouts, trying to dislodge himself from Robert. But he’s too drunk, thankfully. Which means Robert is able to maneuver him through the bar and out the front door with little trouble. 

“You need to leave him alone. I won’t tell you again,” Robert threatens, his voice dripping venom as he shoves Ed a few steps away from him like he’s filth. 

“It’s _our_ anniversary,” Ed spits at him which… okay, that explains a lot about today. “You’re the one that needs ta leave ‘im alone!” 

“I don’t care what today is, mate. He doesn’t want you around him anymore. Get the message.” 

Ed laughs, a bitter, dark sound before he says, “Do you honestly think you can give him anything I can’t?” 

“I’m not trying to give him anything at all,” Robert lies, poorly judging by the way Ed scoffs at him. 

“I see the way you look at him. I’m not _blind_.” 

“Well you are _drunk_ , and Aaron doesn’t need that right now. So my point still stands: Leave him alone.” 

“He _needs_ me,” Ed replies with a hard shove to Robert’s chest. “He’s always needed me. I was the one who was there for him. To pick up the pieces after Jackson. To hold his hand while he stood up and told a courtroom full of strangers how his dad raped him.” 

Robert’s heart stops. Ed keeps talking but Robert doesn’t hear a single word of it because he’s more concerned about his heart actually _stopping._ The words _dad_ and _raped_ swirling through his mind as images of cuts across Aaron’s body rise to the surface of his memory. 

_No_ , he thinks. _No, no, no, no,_ **_no_**. It can’t be true. _It can’t be true_. But it is, isn’t it? It’s true and somehow all these gears just shift into place. 

He’s going to be sick. Robert is going to be _sick_. So he speaks in order to try and keep the bile down, shouting at Ed, “You had no right to tell me that!” 

Ed balks. “You what?” 

“About Aaron’s dad. You piece of… you had _no right_. That wasn’t your secret to tell, it was _his_ , and you had _no bloody right_!” 

Ed looks proper stunned, like Robert’s words were the last thing he expected. But he doesn’t stick around to entertain Ed’s petty jealousy for one more second because there’s only one person he needs to see right now. 

Aaron was raped. 

Aaron was _raped_. 

He’s not at their table once Robert gets back inside, nothing but a string of empty shot glasses and a half full pint showing that either of them were there at all. And at first he thinks he’s gone, almost _hopes_ he’s gone. But Robert was near enough the door that he would’ve noticed Aaron leaving. Which just leaves one option. 

Normally, when Aaron pulls, even if it’s just within the bar itself, Robert leaves him to it, often getting a cab home immediately so as not to have to witness something that breaks off a piece of his heart every time it happens. Aaron was drunk, though. Worse than drunk, in fact. And after what he just heard outside, Robert can’t stand the idea of someone placing their hands on Aaron without his express, _sober_ permission. 

He rushes to the bogs, pushes his way inside and at first, he thinks it’s empty. But then he hears it. 

It’s not a word, mostly because Aaron is probably beyond the ability to form them right now. But it isn’t a good sound by any stretch and Robert is kicking down a rickety stall door before he even thinks. 

It’s Aaron. Of course it’s Aaron. And there’s a man with him, holding Aaron against the wall with one arm and working at Aaron’s jeans with the other hand and Robert wants to cry. Wants to scream. Wants to tear the whole world apart at the seams because Aaron doesn’t deserve this. 

Aaron doesn’t deserve any of the things he’s been given. 

Robert grabs the man by his hair, dragging him off Aaron and shoving him against the sinks before kicking him hard in the crotch. His voice far angrier than it’s ever been as he hisses, “If you even think about getting up, I will make you wish you were never born.” 

The man continues to crouch in pain, clearly no longer a threat, and Robert’s mind is filled with fantasies, most of them including the murder of the random stranger gasping at his feet. There isn’t time for that, though. Aaron needs him. So he pulls one of Aaron’s arms over his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around Aaron’s waist, and leads him out of the bar. 

Aaron falls asleep on the sidewalk outside a chip shop down the street from the bar as they wait for their taxi. And all Robert can do is hold him up as the smell of grease and vinegar permeates the air. His heart still beating a million miles a minute from the press of adrenaline as he waits to take Aaron home. All the while trying to forget both what he’s seen and heard tonight. 

As usual, he fails. 

~*~

Clyde approaches them sleepily once they get inside the flat. Aaron is still mostly out of it, too drunk to walk on his own but sober enough to have his eyes mostly open in random increments. And as Clyde rubs his head into the side of Aaron’s leg, causing Aaron to hum lowly in what Robert hopes is satisfaction, Robert takes in the sight of the winding metal staircase of death. 

There’s no way he’s getting Aaron up them in this state, so he settles him on the sofa instead, trying not to think about the pair of them curled around each other just the night before. 

He removes Aaron’s jacket and shoes but leaves the rest in place, pulling down the gray and cream geometric patterned blanket he knows Aaron loves and tucking it around his body. But just as he’s about to leave, go home and have a good cry, Aaron grabs his wrist. 

“How do you live with it?” he asks quietly, his voice clearer than it’s been all night, very little slur to be had. 

He crouches down next to the sofa and resists the urge to pull his fingers through Aaron’s hair. “With what?” 

“Your wife… cheating. How,” he hiccups up a sob before finishing, “How ‘m I ever s’posed to trust again?” 

Robert feels like he’s going to be sick again, but it’s different this time. It’s the ache he feels every time he realizes that even if he’s lucky enough to ever have Aaron, he will never, _ever_ deserve him. 

“I don’t know, Aaron,” he says quietly, finally succumbing and running his fingers once, twice, three times through Aaron’s soft curls. And something dies inside of him when Aaron turns his face to cup his cheek in Robert’s palm. 

He kisses Robert’s wrist then settles back into the fog that comes just before sleep, his voice barely even a whisper when he says, “Thank you.” 

Even if Robert had the guts to ask what he was thanking him for, he’s pretty sure Aaron wouldn’t hear the question anyway. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Panic attack, mentions of Gordon, mentions of self-harm.

It’s too bright to open his eyes. Aaron can feel the sunlight burning his lids, weighing heavily on them, a pressure that’s covering the rest of his body as well, pinning him down. And for a brief, terrifying minute he’s got no clue where he is. 

He’s not in his bedroom. Even with the curtains open wide, it never gets this bright in there. He could be on his sofa, but he’s got no recollection of how that might’ve happened. Which leaves him with the third, worst option: He’s in someone else’s flat. 

He does a mental check of his body. No new pains pop up anywhere, which is a good sign. His shirt is still on, a bit stiff from sweat but buttoned all the way to his neck if he’s feeling it right. His jeans are there, too, denim scratching against his skin, wrapped around his briefs, still safely snug around his waist. 

His socks are missing, funnily enough. As are his trainers. But in the grand scheme of things that could’ve happened last night, Aaron is gonna count himself lucky. 

Still doesn’t explain where he is, of course. 

He settles on it being his sofa eventually. He knows the shape of the cushions well from nights fighting with Ed. Knows the feel of the wool of his favorite blanket, tucked beneath his arms, now gripped in his fists. So he made it home somehow, and there is only one possible explanation for that. 

Robert. 

He tries to piece the night back together, his head banging, blood pounding behind eyelids that still refuse to open. He starts with how he’d picked out his nicest shirt as a sort of apology for the way he’d treated Robert in the morning, snapping at him before disappearing for the rest of the day because he couldn’t stand waking up in Robert’s arms on his flipping anniversary. 

Robert’s always on about wanting to see him in a suit, and though he couldn’t find a reason to wear one, he thought the crisp black shirt - ironed, even, his mum would be proud - might say what his words wouldn’t be able to. 

_I’m sorry._

_Don’t leave me._

_I’ll be better next time._

It had felt good, waking up to Robert wrapped around him. Warm and safe with only a minimal amount of guilt before he’d made the mistake of looking at his phone. 

Even if the date hadn’t’ve caught him, the _happy anniversary_ text from Ed would’ve done. Bloody git. 

Things had snowballed from there, through a run that made his body scream in pain to a day doing jobs outside the yard adding to the agony. Lifting. Carrying. Stacking. Sweating. Beating up his body until he’d collapsed on the sofa he’s currently lying on, alone this time. 

And then he’d texted Robert mostly because he couldn’t help it. He’d wanted to see him. He always wants to see him these days, and Aaron can’t even begin to figure out how to stop that. If he even wants to. 

The night itself is a blur. Everything just got on top of him, and the only solution he could find was to drink. And drink some more. Then drink even more again. 

The coward’s way out. Always the coward’s way out with him. 

Ed might’ve been there, and then a bloke, stocky, bad breath, tugging his arm and then a blur of blond hair and the next thing Aaron knew he was on his sofa and Robert was standing over him like some sorta guardian angel. 

So it is his sofa after all. That answers that. 

He said something. Robert said something back. But none of it is there anymore, lost to the ether. To the tequila. To regret. So much flaming regret that Aaron might as well be drowning in it. 

He opens his eyes eventually, mostly because he’s gonna need the loo sometime soon and he doesn’t fancy his chances of making it up them stairs with his eyes closed. He stays where he is for a minute, though, taking in familiar walls, a familiar mess. But in all the clutter around his flat, there’s one thing that stands out. 

Robert’s limbs are flung in all different directions where he’s flopped on Aaron’s leather side chair. He’s still fully dressed, even down to his boots and leather jacket like he was planning to go before just saying _sod it all_ and collapsing on the chair. 

His hair’s a mess, his cheeks are a little pink, and his mouth is open slightly as he snores softly, face turned towards the ceiling. And there’s even a little bit of drool next to the left hand corner of his lips. 

_He’s beautiful._

Aaron is stunned by that thought, his heart racing, his head pounding and his body feeling as if someone just ran him down with their motor, tyre marks all along his back. He’s completely flipping _stunned_ , but every time he tries to push the thought away, it comes back even stronger. Fiercer. Knocking the air clean from his lungs. 

_He’s absolutely beautiful._

He gets up at that, moving so fast that he almost keels back over from the rush of blood to his head. He needs to get out of here. It’s his own flat but he still needs to _get out,_ so he stumbles upstairs and heads immediately for a shower as if he can wash the realization off of him. 

_Robert is beautiful._

He turns the water as hot as he can stand it, hoping it’ll wake him up, shake him loose of the words pounding in his head like a drumbeat. But the heat and the steam only make it worse. 

_Robert is beautiful. Robert is beautiful. Robert is beautiful._

He gets out eventually, drying off and throwing on a pair of trackies and an old henley, worn through to softness. But as he goes to head back downstairs, there is still just one thing circling his mind. 

_Robert… is… beautiful._

He’s awake when Aaron reaches the bottom of the stairs, digging around the chair cushion for something that must’ve fallen out of his pocket in the night. Phone, maybe. Or keys. And he doesn’t notice Aaron at first, which gives Aaron a long moment to just stare like some weirdo. 

Robert Sugden really is the most beautiful thing Aaron has ever seen in his entire life. 

“Oh!” Robert exclaims like some scandalized old bat once he sees Aaron lurking. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. Was just…”

_What were you just, Aaron? What exactly are you doing here?_

“It’s alright. No harm done,” Robert replies with a literal wave of his hand because he’s that type of person. The bloke who _hand waves_ a hand-wave, all proper like the Queen. “I was just looking… for… my… phone,” he says, punctuating the last word when he pulls the object out like a rabbit out of a hat. 

He holds it up, twisting it around a few times as if to show Aaron that he, in fact, did just pull his phone from Aaron’s chair and is not stealing the broken crisps probably stuffed down the back as well. And the whole thing is just so flaming _cute_ that Aaron wants to be sick. 

Aaron doesn't do cute. 

“How’d you sleep?” Robert asks as he stuffs his phone in his pocket, following it with his hand and leaning on one leg like he’s trying to _look_ comfortable when it’s clear he’s anything but. 

“Sound, yeah. Cheers for… gettin me home, I’m guessin?” 

Robert dips his head, a flush washing over his cheeks and _bloody flipping hell_ Aaron needs to calm himself down right now. His whole body is _tingling_ like some daft schoolgirl with a crush. 

“It was no bother,” Robert says as he looks up beneath his lashes. “You only puked once on the ride home, but I gave the taxi driver an extra large tip so all’s well.”

Aaron laughs if only to ease the awkwardness that’s spread between them like tar. “D’ya… do you want some breakfast? I can make toast or... toast.” 

Robert lifts his head up finally and shoots a smile Aaron’s way that almost blinds him with its intensity. 

“I could do with some toast.” 

_And I could do with some tackling you to the sofa and ripping your clothes off._

Where the hell did that come from? 

Aaron clears his throat, turning away before the warmth in his cheeks becomes noticeable on the outside, glad for the excuse to move to the kitchen. But once he gets there, he forgets entirely why he came in the first place. 

_Toast_. He’s supposed to be making toast. 

He decides to make some coffee as well because he knows Robert is rubbish without his morning cup. But Aaron sticks to tea for himself because he’s already wired enough as it is. No sense making matters worse. 

He can hear Robert moving around behind him as he works, can almost imagine what it would feel like to have Robert come up behind him, wrap strong arms around his stomach and just hold him. And it almost makes Aaron want to cry, that’s how messed up his head is right now because he’s not supposed to be feeling things like that. He’s supposed to be grieving the loss of Ed, not fantasizing about ruining the only friendship he’s initiated since he was sixteen. 

“Jam?” he asks when he finally turns around with two plates of buttered toast in his hands. 

“No, you’re alright,” Robert replies from where he’s sitting at the table, right next to where Aaron usually sits. 

_That’s Ed’s chair_ , his mind supplies, but it doesn’t really feel like that anymore. It feels like that chair can belong to whoever Aaron wants it to belong to and right now, he says it’s Robert’s. 

He puts the plates down, goes back for the mugs and places them on the table as well before taking a seat next to Robert, so close he could reach out and touch if he were brave enough to try. 

They eat in silence. They drink in silence. They don’t even look at each other and something is screaming inside Aaron to say something, anything to dispel the awkwardness that’s settled over them. But every time he opens his mouth to try, any words he might say die on his tongue. 

Robert isn’t helping either. He’s usually the talker, the one Aaron can’t shut up. All Aaron ever has to do is listen and respond when needed but now, Robert’s gone mute. And he seems more than the proper amount interested in his toast and coffee. 

That’s when it hits Aaron. If words can’t bridge the gap, maybe a touch can. A hand on Robert’s thigh, telling him what Aaron can’t. But before he can make the trip across the gap between them, Robert blurts out a panicked, “Aaron, I need to tell you something.”

Everything goes deathly still as Robert finally looks at Aaron. And his face… that’s pain there. Whatever’s going on is causing Robert _pain_ and so Aaron closes the distance and rests his hand on Robert’s thigh, just how he wanted. 

“What is it?” he asks, even though he’s pretty bloody sure he doesn’t wanna know. 

“It’s about last night,” he starts cautiously, looking now like a dog expecting a good kicking. 

“D-did I,” Aaron stammers, “do something… did I say something wrong?” 

Robert reaches down to rest his hand over Aaron’s, still placed on Robert’s thigh. “No, no, no, it wasn’t you. You didn’t say anything wrong. It was… well, Ed did.” 

That was… unexpected. 

“He told me something, Aaron, and I don’t think it’s right pretending that I don’t know. It wouldn’t be fair on you.” 

Something constricts in his chest when he asks, “What did Ed tell you?” 

There are at least a dozen options here, and none of them are good. 

“He said… well, he said… you see he-”

“Robert,” Aaron says tightly, squeezing his fingers into Robert’s jeans. “Just tell me.” 

Robert takes a deep breath before saying quickly, “He told me about your dad.” He pauses, takes another deep breath, then adds, more slowly, “About what your dad did to you.” 

_Why._ That’s the only word Aaron’s head can form, the only word coming out of the void that’s opened up at the base of his skull like a black hole. Why would Ed do that to him? What purpose could he possibly have had for telling Robert about Gordon? 

Aaron gets to his feet as soon as he has his bearings, his movements so fast that his chair clatters back to the floor. And then he’s backing up, putting himself in the corner of the kitchen because whenever he needed to hide from something, corners always felt the safest for him. 

His breathing speeds up once he’s there. His vision blurring as he reaches behind him and holds onto the counter so tight his knuckles hurt. His heart pounding - _thud, thud, thud,_ **_thud_ **\- as control of the situation continues to slip through his fingers like sand. 

This isn’t happening. He doesn’t want this to _happen_. 

“Aaron?” Robert asks quietly. Somehow he’s moved from his chair without Aaron knowing, situating himself right in front of Aaron. But when he reaches out to place his hands on Aaron’s shoulders, Aaron flinches so hard he knocks Robert back. 

“Aaron, I think… you might be having a panic attack,” Robert says, still so soothing. But the words come through garbled, as if Aaron were listening to a broken radio.

_Count to ten_ , he thinks. Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do? Count to ten and ground himself, feel the floor beneath his feet, the jut of the counter into his lower back. Remind himself that he’s real, that he’s breathing, that he’s _fine_ , only every time Aaron tries to count he only gets to bloody three. 

His vision worsens, narrowing to a pinprick, and then he feels a hand over his chest, shaking slightly but _there_ , followed by another hand circling his wrist. 

Robert raises Aaron’s hand and places it to his chest so that they can feel each other’s heartbeats, and then he says, “Breathe with me,” like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

It’s not. It’s really _not_. 

Aaron tries, though. Tries to match the deep breaths that Robert is displaying. And at first, he can only get about halfway there before his lungs give up, two breaths for every one of Robert’s. But eventually they begin to sync up, ever so slowly until Aaron’s vision clears and he’s suddenly back in his kitchen once more. 

His body aches from the strain of the attack, the same way it always does, but his mind hasn’t forgotten what Robert said. Which means he can’t just sit back and be grateful that he’s once again remembered how to breathe. 

“He should never have told you that,” Aaron hisses as he rips his hand from Robert’s chest and shoves him back far enough to step around him. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Aaron, I know-”

“You don’t know anything!” he shouts, turning around to see a stunned Robert still rooted in his kitchen. 

“You’re right. I don’t,” Robert replies cautiously, his hands out in front of him like he’s just begging Aaron to be still. “I don’t know anything about this. But I’m here for you, Aaron. I need you to know that I’m _here for you_ , whatever you need.” 

Aaron scoffs, the taste of Robert’s words bitter in his mouth. “Here to what? Pity me? Because you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pity me!” 

Robert’s face crumples in confusion. “What are you talking about? I don’t pity you.”

The scoff is now a full-fledged laugh. “Of course you do. Everyone does. Look at poor, abused Aaron. Damaged Aaron. _Broken_ Aaron. All anyone sees when they look at me is _that_. Is what he did to me.” 

“Aaron,” Robert tries, but Aaron just keeps talking over him. 

“You were supposed to be different, Robert. You weren’t supposed to know that because I wanted you to be _different_. I wanted you to see…” A tear slips down Aaron’s cheek. “I wanted you to see a different me, but now it’s all broken. This… _this_ is all broken.” 

Aaron heads for the door at that, pulls the sleeve of his henley over his hand so he can wipe at the tears staining his face. And he’s so torn up inside that he can’t even look at Robert when he opens the door and says, “You need to leave,” because he does. 

Aaron needs to be alone. 

“Aaron, please… please don’t do this.”

“I said _leave_!” he practically roars, and he can see the way his voice startles Robert in the way his whole body shakes. 

Robert looks like he’s considering it, weighing his options, stay or go. But in the end, he does what Aaron asks. His head tipped down towards his feet only it’s not in the shy way it had been earlier. It’s sad. Robert’s whole body is telegraphing _sadness_. And Aaron just can’t deal with that. 

Which is why when Robert reaches the other side of the threshold and turns back to look at Aaron, maybe beg him again to let him stay, the only thing Aaron can do is slam the door in his face. The sound reverberating in his head as he sinks back onto his sofa, buries his face in his hands, and cries. 

~*~

The first thing Aaron does once he manages to stop crying is call a taxi. The second thing he does is throw on some jeans and grab his jacket. And the third thing he does is leave Emmerdale. 

He has the taxi take him to Leeds. Only when he gets to Leeds, he realizes that it’s the morning of a business day and so there’s not much to do but hang out at parks with mums and their snotty brats. Either that or drink in car parks with kids bunking off school, neither of which seem like attractive options. 

So he walks. Then walks some more, stopping for a coffee so he has the energy to keep walking until he passes a familiar cinema. 

He’s been here dozens of times before, back when he was dating Vic and Holly, back when he and Adam used to skip school at least once a week. On date nights with Ed. On brother-sister nights with Liv when she’d come down to visit from Ireland. 

But in all those memories, the one that sticks out the most is the single time he came here with Robert. And the way he can tell its significance? He buys a ticket for the same flipping film. 

It’s the newest Marvel one because Robert is a giant geek with a comic book collection Aaron would bet fills up the entirety of his storage space back in London. He’d wound Robert up pretty badly when he’d found out from Vic about that little treasure, still tries to get a rise out of him to this day on the subject, but the truth is that Aaron finds it sorta sweet. 

Robert is who he is in a way that Aaron has always struggled to own. 

He’s mad at him, though, which means this film was probably a bad idea. But he still gets popcorn and a beer and tucks in for a film he didn’t particularly like the first time because… well… he doesn’t actually know why, really. 

He can feel the ghost of Robert sitting next to him as he settles into his seat, one of only four people in the entire theatre. And it makes something tug roughly in his stomach, a burning ache that reminds him over and over again of what happened this morning. Of what Robert _knows_ , and of how much that changes everything between them.

He’s aware that it would’ve come out eventually. The longer he knows Robert, the more likely Robert is to actually _know_ him. But the day of that reveal was a foggy one, not real, within his control and somewhere off in the distant future when things between them were… what? 

What were things between them supposed to be? 

He doesn’t know. The point is, he wasn’t expecting to deal with Gordon _now_ , when he and Robert are still… something less, less than what Aaron wants. But Ed went and ruined it all. 

The next stop on his tour of Leeds is the posh bistro he and Robert ate in one time when they were in town for scrap business. Robert had been wearing a suit that day, owing to the fact that he was the one brokering the deal. 

It was a brown color, bordering on burgundy, with a two-tone pink shirt and tie set that should’ve been ridiculous but wasn’t somehow. He looked quite fit, actually, and Aaron had hated himself after for thinking as much. 

The food there is still overpriced, and it still doesn’t taste as good as it probably should, given its pricing. But as he sits alone at a corner table by the window, watching as the city comes alive with lunch hour, he almost allows himself to smile at the way it had felt to eat a meal with Robert somewhere other than the Woolpack. 

_He knows_ , the voice inside his head reminds him. The one that sounds like Gordon. The one that breaks everything Aaron touches. _He knows now, and he’ll never be able to see you the same way again._

The tour continues with the club he met Robert at, and at this point, he’s not even trying to stop his feet from subconsciously taking him to all the places in this city that remind him of Robert. There’s no point in fighting it, not really. The club is closed, though, which is probably good because going down the memory lane of that night is something Aaron has willfully avoided for almost a month now. 

He’s refused to step foot in that club ever since he and Robert met there. They go everywhere together, he and Robert, to every bar and club in Hotten and Leeds. Every one except this one. 

There is something interesting about this club, though. It’s a very short walk from the hotel where they spent their first night together. And in a drastic surprise that no one could’ve possibly seen coming, Aaron finds himself at half three checking into a room in the Hotel Novotel in the Leeds city centre because he is the most pathetic person ever. 

To say Aaron raids the mini bar would be a drastic understatement. He spends the afternoon drinking just about everything in it, softening the blow with peanuts and crisps and avoiding the chocolate because all it does is remind him of Robert. But when he gets to the end of the reasonably priced alcohol, he starts to get itchy. 

The hotel bar is a nice one. He and Robert never visited it, but it doesn’t surprise him that Robert picked a hotel as posh as this one. 

He imagines him, for however many nights he stayed here between London and Emmerdale. Sees him with men, women, all of them far more fit and interesting than Aaron could ever hope to be. And it strikes him that he never once, in all his time knowing Robert, wondered how many other people fucked or were fucked by Robert in that bed. 

_It doesn’t matter now, son. He’ll never want to touch you again._

He orders a glass of scotch, neat, something he’s seen Robert do on countless occasions, and waits for the burn to spread through his chest. The world feeling better, slightly, or at least a little more quiet the closer he gets to the bottom of the glass. 

“Mind if I buy you a drink?” someone says just as Aaron finishes the one in his hand like the bloke was timing it. 

He turns to face his new mate, gives him a solid once-over out of habit and smiles in a way that burns worse than the scotch. 

“Fill your boots.” 

He does. For the next hour, he fills ‘em right up. 

He’s pawing at Aaron when the hour is up, pressing Aaron against the inside of the door to Aaron’s room. But everything feels wrong all of a sudden, completely unlike all of the other one night stands he’s had since Ed. And that’s when he sees him, in his head but still so real he could almost touch him. 

Robert is laid out on the bed, starkers, staring up at Aaron with amazement in his eyes. He’s letting Aaron take control, letting him take care of him, give him everything he could ever want. Begging for Aaron to let him come. And in that moment, it hits him again like a tonne of bricks. 

_He’s so beautiful._

“Get off,” Aaron says as he shoves at his new mate’s chest. 

“What’s wrong?” the bloke asks, confusion written all over his drunk face. 

_If he only knew_. 

“Nothing’s wrong, I just… I can’t do this. Soz.” 

He opens the door at that, doesn’t offer another word of explanation before he picks up the guy's jacket from the floor, presses it into his hands and shoves him out the door. 

And then… well, then the first thing Aaron does is call a taxi. 

~*~

It’s late by the time he gets to Keepers. Dead late. As in _the dead of night_. And the logical part of Aaron’s brain, whatever bit is able to float to the surface of all the alcohol filling it up, is telling him that he should just go home and sleep it off. 

It’s heavy in his veins, the alcohol, making him feel like he weighs about a hundred and fifty kilos. He can feel it pressing him down, lead boots, lead vest, lead heart, lungs and everything else. He should just _go home,_ only he can’t. Can’t wait, can’t turn back now, can’t _move from this spot_ until he sees Robert. 

All the lights are out in the cottage because, again, it’s flipping late. But he doesn’t pound on the door like every fiber of his being is screaming out to do because he doesn’t wanna wake Vic and Adam. They don’t need an audience for this, whatever this is gonna be. So he goes around to the side of the building, picks up a few stones, and starts chucking them at Robert’s window. 

He feels like a complete idiot, but really, what’s new there? 

Eventually, a light clicks on, and Aaron’s heart lodges in his throat immediately as the curtains part. For a second, he thinks it’s gonna be Vic or Adam. He’s almost certain he’s gotten the window wrong. But then Robert moves into focus, back lit by the soft light behind him, and every single part of Aaron sags to the point that he almost ends up on his knees. 

He’s not gonna lie, it would be a fitting gesture, given the situation. 

Robert just stares at him for a few long moments, studying him, neither one of them moving an inch. And then he does something that breaks Aaron’s heart wide open. 

He closes the curtains and turns off the lights. 

Aaron continues to stand there, unmoving. Not ‘cause he’s got hope or anything but just ‘cause he can’t think of anything better to do than freeze outside Robert’s window. But then he hears it, the sound of a door opening off to his left putting all the pieces of Aaron’s heart back together again. 

“Aaron?” Robert calls out quietly. 

Aaron turns to look at him, approaching him from the side in just his bare feet and pyjamas. And he must be freezing, the dark purple dressing gown doing nothing to fend off the winter chill and Aaron can’t flipping take it anymore. 

He runs to Robert as fast as his uncoordinated feet will carry him and falls pathetically into his arms. 

Robert hugs him so tight it’s borderline suffocation, but Aaron doesn’t care. He’ll stop breathing right now and be alright with it so long as it’s in Robert’s arms. 

“Where have you been?” Robert whispers into his ear as he drags his fingers back through Aaron’s hair over and over and over again. 

“I’ve been calling and texting all day. You’ve had me worried sick.” 

He knew that. At least he’s pretty sure he knew that. But Aaron hardly looked at his phone outside the effort it took to call two taxis and so he mumbles, “Soz,” into Robert’s shoulder because it’s all he’s got left to give him. 

“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” Robert says. But when he goes to let go of Aaron, Aaron doubles down, fisting his hands in the back of Robert’s dressing gown and refusing to let go. 

Robert lets out this soft, startled laugh before saying, “I don’t know about you but I don’t fancy freezing out here like Jack and Rose. I promise I won’t let you go but can we please go inside?” 

“Rose didn’t freeze,” Aaron murmurs, vaguely aware of the fact that he just admitted to watching _Titanic_ and one hundred percent prepared to blame it on Liv if called on it. 

“Aaron,” Robert sighs, reaching up to lift Aaron’s face from where it’s burrowed in the crook of his neck and shoulder so he can look him properly in the eye. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothin',” he lies as Robert’s hands settle on his shoulders. 

“Aaron,” he presses, digging his fingers in a bit and Aaron can’t stand it anymore. 

He kisses him, goes up on his tiptoes and kisses him like he might die if he doesn’t. And for a brief moment, Robert kisses him back. His mouth warm as it invites Aaron in. 

It’s only for a moment, though. 

“What are you doing?” Robert asks as he pulls back and holds Aaron at arm’s length, exactly where he _doesn’t_ want to be. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks as he struggles to get close to Robert again. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“No ‘m not,” he lies. Again. 

Robert takes his hands off Aaron’s shoulders at that, watches as he sways where he stands, proof of Aaron’s blatant drunkenness. 

“You can’t even stand up straight, Aaron,” Robert says, disappointment lacing his tone. And all Aaron wants to do is kiss him. Why can’t he kiss him? He doesn’t need anything else, doesn’t need it to go any further, but he’s aching with how much he just wants to _kiss him_ and Robert, the prat, won’t let ‘im. 

“Don’t need to stand if we’re in a bed,” Aaron says like he somehow thinks that’s gonna work. And the frown line that develops in Robert’s forehead looks about ready to slice the top of his skull off. 

Robert steps away completely, totally out of reach of Aaron’s arms, his face bearing all the traces of _hurt_ , carved in so deeply that all Aaron wants to do is apologize and make it better. 

His tongue is frozen in his mouth, though, swollen by alcohol and regret, and it feels like Robert is just slipping right away from him. 

“I won’t be one of them,” Robert says coldly, his words so confusing that all Aaron can do is blink at him. 

“One of those blokes. A one night stand. I won’t be another way to hurt yourself, Aaron. I can’t.” 

“Robert, you’re not-”

Robert scoffs before Aaron can even finish his plea. 

“You’re drunk and vulnerable, Aaron. What kind of person do you think I am?” 

“I was drunk and vulnerable last time, too,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around his stomach for comfort he can’t seem to find. 

Robert does the same, nodding once and looking at Aaron like he’s trying to critically analyze him. 

“Well I didn’t know that then, or I… we… I didn’t _know_. And besides, it wasn’t supposed to matter. Last time _wasn’t supposed to matter_. But the next-”

He sucks his lips into his mouth to get himself to stop talking, his eyes a little wider than before as Aaron says a quiet, “Go on.” 

Robert breathes in once deeply through his nose before looking Aaron dead in the eye and saying, “The next time we have sex I want it to mean something. _I_ want to mean something.” 

_Me too_ , Aaron thinks, but for some reason he can’t get himself to say it. So he walks up to Robert, moving slowly so as not to spook him, cupping Robert’s jaw in his hands before asking, “Can you just hold me then?” 

Robert looks shocked for a moment before his face just softens, his voice just as soppy when he says, “Alright,” and places a kiss to the center of Aaron’s forehead. 

They make their way to Robert’s room in the pitch black, Robert’s hand clasped in Aaron’s the entire time, leading the way. And this maybe isn’t what Aaron was hoping for from tonight, but he’s ready to admit that it’s what he _needs_ as he sits on Robert’s bed and watches him strip down to his boxers. 

“This alright?” Robert asks, holding his trackies in front of his body like a shield. 

Aaron just nods, afraid of what will come out of his mouth if he opens it up right now. 

Aaron removes his jacket as Robert kneels down in front of him, removing his trainers, then his socks. It reminds Aaron of how he’d woken up today, how Robert has done this for him before. And it makes something warm rush through his veins, the way Robert cares for him. The way he cares _about_ him. 

He reaches up for Aaron’s jeans next, his eyes asking for permission in the moonlight before Aaron nods again, lifting his hips to allow Robert to remove his jeans. But when he reaches for the hem of Aaron’s henley, Aaron stops him. 

All he can think about is what’s under there - the scars that Robert has seen and the new cuts he hasn’t. Which is why his voice is hoarse when he asks, quietly, “Can we leave it?” 

“Of course,” Robert replies like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And for him, maybe it is. 

He doesn’t realize how cold he was until he curls under Robert’s blankets, his head resting on Robert’s bare chest, Robert’s arms wrapped tightly around him. 

“Just sleep, yeah?” Robert asks with a kiss to the top of Aaron’s head. 

Aaron burrows in closer, feels Robert’s heartbeat through his skin, and says, “Yeah.” 

Just sleep. 

Just that. 

Just them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 100% promise that the next chapter is going to be happy. I swear!
> 
> Also, if you're on Tumblr, come talk to me (Starwitness42)!


	7. Chapter 7

This is one of Robert’s favorite dreams. 

Ever since Aaron told him they could only be mates, he’s had a variety of dreams like this one. It’s not as if he’s trying to fantasize about Aaron. When he’s awake, he pushes those thoughts down, refuses to entertain them out of a desperation not to take advantage of Aaron in even that way. But he can’t help what happens when he’s asleep, and this is one of his favorite dreams. 

He’s in a hard bed, the skin of his back resting on rough, poorly softened sheets. Which might not sound appealing to some. But when Aaron Dingle is on top of you, his lips on your skin, endlessly searching, even the worst bed in the world feels like five star luxury. 

He’s taking Robert apart in the dream, lips and teeth and tongue reaching out, attempting to cover every inch of him. And Robert is so wound up all he can do is lie back and experience it. 

Aaron’s teeth graze across his ribs, one at a time, his lips following back the other direction, kissing away the sting. And it makes Robert buck his hips slightly, looking for friction in a way that causes Aaron to laugh. The rumble of it rippling along Robert’s stomach, forcing his muscles to contract. 

It’s a beautiful dream, really, but this one never goes any further. It’s just long hours of Aaron kissing him, wandering around his torso like he’s got all the time in the world. And all the while Robert is burning up inside with need. 

Then, something changes. Aaron’s hands grip his hips, fingers digging into bone. Aaron’s mouth circles his nipple before he bites, just shy of too hard. And the way Robert’s body convulses is too real for this to be anything but. 

This isn’t a dream. 

Bloody hell, _this isn’t a dream_. 

“Don’t worry, I heard Adam and Vic leave,” Aaron mumbles into his skin as if _that’s_ the reason Robert’s heart has started beating so fast he can feel it threatening to shatter his ribs. 

“Aaron,” Robert says breathlessly, panic coursing through his veins as he tries to sit up, move away from Aaron even though every muscle in his body is aching to stay. 

“It’s alright,” Aaron soothes, but Robert can hear the tendrils of fear in his voice, too, as he wraps his arms around Robert’s waist and attempts to hold on. 

“Aaron, we ca-” 

“ _Robert, please don’t_ ,” he begs, pressing his cheek to Robert’s stomach as he continues to hold on. But Robert can’t do this, not like this, so he presses his hands into the mattress and leverages himself into a sitting position despite Aaron’s protests. 

“Aaron, we need to talk about this.” 

“Why bother?” Aaron asks petulantly when he finally lets go of Robert, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest as if he wants to create a barrier between them. 

It breaks Robert’s heart, but it’s a necessary fissure right now if it means making sure that Aaron is okay. After last night, after the last few days, Robert can’t go any further without knowing that. 

“I know what this is about,” Aaron adds, burying half his face behind his knees so that Robert can only see the blue of his eyes and the top of his head, hair messed up from sleep. 

He’s still the most remarkable thing Robert has ever seen. 

“What do you think this is about?” he can’t help but ask.

Aaron huffs bitterly. “You don’t see me like that anymore.” 

Robert laughs in reply. Not on purpose, he just can’t help it, given the ridiculousness of Aaron’s assumption. But judging by the way Aaron narrows his eyes to practical slits, laughter wasn’t the best choice of response here. 

“Of course I still see you like that, you idiot,” he says quietly as he reaches out to lift Aaron’s face so he can caress his cheek, run a thumb over his bottom lip. “I want you more than anything. But if this is about Ed… if this is about rebounding-”

Aaron lunges at him, pressing his knees to the bed so he can reach out for Robert, cup his face and kiss the absolute life out of him. Proper hovering over the bed like a dead man, that’s how incredible the kiss is. 

“It’s not about Ed,” he whispers against Robert’s lips, the taste of stale alcohol still tangy in his mouth. “I want you. Just you.” 

He kisses him again then, in a way that would normally have Robert reaching for the toothpaste and mouthwash, but he finds that he doesn’t care anymore. Nothing matters so long as Aaron’s lips are against his.

“I see you’re still sticking to your old plan,” he says with another laugh once Aaron eases up. 

He quirks his head in a way that is so adorable Robert feels like he’s going to faint. “What old plan?” 

“The one where you kiss me every time you want to shut me up.” 

Aaron shrugs, presses a quick kiss to Robert’s lips like he just can’t help himself, and says, “Can’t argue with the results.” 

“It is lacking a bit of imagination,” Robert replies with his own kiss, quick and shallow in a way that makes Aaron chase his lips for more. 

“How’s about I do more than kiss ya then?” 

Robert grabs him, pins Aaron beneath his body with a smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. “See, that doesn’t sound like as much of a threat as you think it does.” 

Aaron juts his chin out in defiance. “Prove it.” 

Robert does prove it, sinking into Aaron’s body, mapping his mouth with his tongue as his hands slide slowly down Aaron’s sides until something happens that makes Aaron’s entire body spasm. 

“You’re joking me?” Robert asks, even giddier now as he looks down into Aaron’s wide eyes. “You’re ticklish? How did I never know you were ticklish?” 

“‘M not ticklish,” Aaron tries, but it’s a poor attempt given how he’s squirming away from Robert’s fingers, still pressed into his sides. 

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” 

He attacks, full on frontal assault as Aaron tries feebly to shove him away, his laughter just bubbling out of his throat in a way that makes Robert’s insides feel like they’re caving in. His heart beating wildly again as he reaches down for the hem of Aaron’s top so he can get to skin. 

As soon as his fingers skate across the raised lines of freshly made cuts, Robert realizes his mistake. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says desperately, trying to pull away from Aaron. But Aaron just holds on to him, flat out refuses to let him retreat. “I didn’t mean… I completely forgot, Aaron. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry, I swear.”

“I know,” Aaron says on a sigh. “It’s alright.” But his actions don’t match his words as he maneuvers so that he’s no longer lying beneath Robert. 

They’re both sitting opposite one another again, but at least this time Aaron’s knees aren’t up, he’s not blocking Robert out. And then he does something that completely floors Robert to the point of speechlessness. 

He reaches down, grabs the hem of his top, and lifts it off. 

Robert’s eyes can’t help but find the cuts, the scars he vaguely remembers from their first night together and the half dozen or so new ones mixed in. And he knows it’s none of his business, that Aaron’s self-harm is about Aaron’s own pain and nothing else. But all Robert feels is agony, and all Robert wants to do is hold him in his arms and beg him to never do it again.

He reaches out before he’s aware of what he’s doing, traces his finger lightly over a particularly long cut just above Aaron’s belly button. And he doesn’t even recognize his voice as his own when he says, “You’re the strongest person I know.” 

He is, though. Aaron truly is. 

Aaron reaches out for him again at that, pulls him into a kiss that feels different. Deeper. More meaningful. And suddenly it’s like Robert can see the future, years upon years of just this, just Aaron. But while with Chrissie, that thought was the exact one that sent him fleeing to any other bed he could find, with Aaron…

With Aaron it makes him feel like he’s soaring. 

“I want you,” Robert repeats, just in case Aaron has forgotten. His lips sucking at Aaron’s neck, desperate to leave marks so that whatever happens today, tomorrow, the next day or whenever, there will be evidence of Robert’s presence. Proof that he was here, that for however long, Aaron was his. 

Robert almost cries out when Aaron replies, “You have me.” 

He pins Aaron to the bed instead, gets Aaron back underneath him, right where he wants him. The perfect angle to kiss his way down Aaron’s body as he palms Aaron through his boxers, rubbing in circles that sync up to the way Aaron is rolling his hips upwards. 

He never thought he’d have this again. That night, when Aaron left without so much as giving Robert his name, there is no way he could’ve predicted that he’d _have this again_. But here he is, and here he’ll stay. You’ll have to pry his cold, dead fingers off Aaron. 

As things speed up, he makes a move for their boxers, pushing both pairs down with two sets of kicking feet trying to get any remaining fabric between them out of the way. And then he reaches for the side table, for the box of condoms and tube of lube he hasn’t touched since moving in. And the way Aaron looks up at him when he sees what’s in his hand is a bloody sight to behold. 

“Can I?” he asks as he runs a ringer between Aaron’s legs, down and back to his arsehole. 

“God, yes,” Aaron moans in response, and that’s really all the encouragement Robert needs. 

Aaron is tight around his fingers, so tight it makes Robert groan almost as loud as Aaron as he pushes one, then two, then three inside, scissoring out to prepare him. And he wants to take his time, savour every single second of this, but Aaron’s heels are kicking at his lower back, urging him on, and Robert can’t help but get caught up in the flow of it. 

He almost cries actual tears when he puts the condom on, that’s how much he needs this. Which means that when he’s finally able to sink into Aaron, slowly so as not to hurt him, he needs to bite his lip to keep from screaming. 

“So… tight… so… perfect,” he pants as he lifts his hips slowly and slides back in. 

“If I’m so perfect, then why don’t you bloody fuck me,” Aaron hisses out as he kicks Robert’s back again, making his intentions clear. So Robert complies, picking up his pace, adding to the force until the bed frame is slamming against the wall. 

It’s exactly how he remembers it while at the same time being something entirely new. Knowing Aaron, spending all this time with Aaron over the last month, being allowed to see who Aaron is has made this, sex, something more. And Robert doesn’t even have the words to describe what _something more_ is. He just knows that he wants it for as long as Aaron will give it. 

“Robert, I’m gonna… gonna c-come,” Aaron pants out far too soon. And it’s like with those words, Robert sees the writing on the wall. 

There are so many ways this could go, so many after effects of shagging again. But no matter how many of them are favorable for him, the only ones he can see are the bad ones. 

Aaron realizing this was a mistake. 

Aaron pulling away from him. 

Aaron leaving him. 

So when Aaron comes with a keening sound that shoots right to the base of Robert’s spine, he can’t bring himself to follow. Slowing his movements, pulling himself back inside to make this last as long as he can. 

Eventually Aaron notices, he has to. But when he does, his reaction is so gentle that Robert closes his eyes and swears he won’t open them again. 

“Robert, are you… what’s wrong?” he whispers, his voice hoarse from the noises he’s been making. 

“I can’t,” he says, panting through the exertion of holding on when all his body wants to do is let go. 

“Robert-”

“Promise… promise me this isn’t the end. Promise… promise me that I didn’t mess this up.”

Aaron runs one hand up Robert’s cheek, reaching down to grab his arse hard with his other one. His voice more confident than Robert has ever heard it when he replies, “This is _not_ over. I promise.” 

He pulls Robert in, again and again, forcing him to pick the pace up once more. And all Robert can do at this point is trust him, trust Aaron’s words, his promise. 

Aaron pulls Robert’s head down, presses his lips next to Robert’s ear and says, “Come for me.” And Robert…

Well, Robert has no choice but to comply. 

~*~

They spend the whole morning shagging. The whole. Flipping. Morning. Four solid hours of nothing but the taste of Aaron’s skin, the feel of Aaron’s body wrapped around him in every imaginable way, and Aaron’s mouth bringing Robert over the edge again and again and again. 

He feels like a teenager. It’s pure bliss. 

Eventually, though, they need sustenance. Which is why Robert is currently in the kitchen, making them some sandwiches and tea, musing about how grateful he is that he bought condoms and lube before he came back to Emmerdale because at the time he bought them, all of his sexual avenues had been cut by distance or infidelity. 

The kettle is finally boiling when there’s a knock on the door. And Robert is a half a second away from ignoring it when something inside of him kicks. It might be important, he wagers. Or the Emmerdale version of important, anyhow. 

People rarely knock in this village unless something is needed, and the last thing _he_ needs is Vic getting on his case because Random Villager No. 45 needed milk and the inhabitants of her cottage were not able to assist. 

Briefly, blindingly, he misses London. But then he remembers that Aaron is naked upstairs, waiting for him to return, and suddenly London looks a lot less desirable. 

His eyes are set to proper human height when he opens the door, wearing nothing but his boxers because when you’re taking a mid-sex marathon break, it’s counterproductive to put on many layers. 

It strikes him as amusing, thinking of someone like Edna getting an eyeful right now. When the door is actually open, though, confusion settles in for a few seconds until he thinks to look down. 

There’s a short blonde girl there, early teens by the look of her, wearing a puffy black coat and an oddly familiar scowl.

“Are you Robert?” she asks as she takes in his appearance with all the disgust of someone that’s just been asked to perform unspeakable acts of cruelty on furry, little animals. 

He hides slightly behind the door, a poor attempt at covering up. “And who are you?” 

She crosses her arms over her chest and that’s what does it, really. He’s seen that mardy look before, so the sarky little, “I asked you first,” is really unnecessary. 

“Let me guess,” he says blandly. “Aaron’s sister?” 

“So you do know Aaron,” she replies with surprise, her eyes studying him deeper now as if she can’t quite grasp how any of this is possible. 

“Who said I know Aaron?” 

She rolls her eyes and _god_ , the resemblance is uncanny. 

“You just did.”

He frowns, deeply. “I meant who, among the people you’ve spoken to over the course of your life, told you that I know Aaron?” 

“What are you, taking a survey?” 

He almost bangs his head against the door. It’s a very near thing. 

“What do you want?” he asks instead, deciding that another track is in order if he has any hope of returning to his bed today. 

“I’m looking for Aaron,” she says so seriously she might as well be working for the Hotten PD, her eyes bearing the suspicion of someone that hasn’t yet ascertained whether Robert is a murderer or not. 

“Well, have you checked his flat?”

That one wins him another eyeroll. 

“No, genius, I haven’t. Of course I’ve checked his flat. And the pub. And the yard. And even the cricket pavilion. Adam said to check here. Said you two are attached at the hip these days and that, quote, you both sloped off like a coupla rats today.”

There’s a part of Robert that really wants to laugh right now. The same part of him that finds it unbearably endearing when Aaron is being a prat. But he doesn’t want to give the game away, not until he knows Aaron’s feelings on people _knowing_ about them, about what they might be becoming. 

So he says, “I haven’t seen him, but if I do, I’ll tell him I saw ya, yeah?” 

She eyes him suspiciously again, like she’s now certain that she caught Robert in the process of burying Aaron’s body in the garden. Everything about her reading _keen_ when she says, “You know, Aaron doesn’t have mates.” 

It’s Robert’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“That’s pretty rude of you to say about your brother.” 

She crosses her arms tighter, doubling down. “Don’t mean it’s not true.” 

“Well he does now.” 

She nods, assessing, before smiling the same crooked half-smile Robert has seen on Aaron’s face a hundred times by now. Which is why he’s not surprised when the next words out of her mouth are an insult. 

“Where’d he find you? The adopt a granddad program?” 

Robert smiles. The business one, more bite than anything. “I’ll let him know I saw you.” 

“If you see him,” she adds slyly. 

Now it’s his turn to narrow his eyes in suspicion. “If I see him.” 

“See ya later, Robert!” she finishes brightly, her whole demeanor changed all of a sudden like she’s got dual personalities or summat. And Robert can’t be certain, but it seems like she’s _sure_ about what she’s saying - like she knows this won’t be the last time they see each other. And given the implications of that vis-a-vis his potential relationship with Aaron… well… the smile loosens a bit on his face. 

Aaron is just slipping into his jeans when Robert returns with their tea and sarnies. And even though the way Aaron is standing gives Robert a perfect view of his even more perfect arse, his heart still sinks at the sight. 

“Why would you ever want to put on clothes right now?” he asks as he sets the tray down on the nightstand. 

Aaron turns around to face him, a fond smile on his face, his chest covered in marks that have nothing to do with self-harm. 

“That was Liv I heard downstairs, yeah?” 

Robert approaches Aaron, reaching behind him to slip his hands into Aaron’s back pockets, giving a good tug so that they’re pressed tightly together. 

“So? She was heading to the pub. I’m sure Chas’ll keep her occupied.” 

Aaron tips his head back when Robert goes to kiss him. “I’ve been dodging her calls for days. I’m surprised she didn’t call out a search party.” 

“Charming,” Robert says, but what he’s really thinking is that he’s grateful there’s yet another person out there that cares that much about Aaron. Given what he’s been through in his life, the more the merrier.

“You’re charming,” Aaron says before squishing up one side of his face. “That were supposed to be an insult. Don’t think I thought it through properly.” 

“That’s what you get for using playground humour,” he replies with a nip at Aaron’s chin. 

“I really should go find her, though.” And the pout on his face makes Robert think that he’s willing to be talked out of it. 

Robert knows his mind wouldn’t really be here, though. He’s heard Aaron talk about Liv enough to know how high on his priority list she is. So instead of tipping him over the edge and back into bed, Robert says, “Yeah, you probably should.” 

The fond smile returns, what’s fast becoming Robert’s favourite smile of Aaron’s, and he does kiss him then. The kind of deep, toe-curling kiss you only see in the pictures. 

“I know you’re trying to show your gratitude, but that’s just cruel,” Robert mumbles into Aaron’s neck, forcing a deep laugh to erupt from inside him. 

“I’ll make it up to you later, yeah? Come have tea with me and Liv tonight. We’ll watch a film. The whole deal.” 

“Yeah?” Robert asks, completely incapable of stopping the bubble of hope from bursting in his chest. 

Aaron runs his hand through Robert’s hair, tugs him in for one more kiss before saying, “Yeah.” 

It may not be the afternoon full of sex that Robert was hoping for, but it feels like something better. Something _stronger_. And Robert absolutely can’t wait for five o’clock. 

~*~

Due to the cancellation of his afternoon of sexual gymnastics, Robert agreed to cover at the pub so Charity could… well, he didn’t really listen to the part where Charity said what she had to do, half because he didn’t care and half because he knew she was lying anyway. 

It’s a slow day, though. Slow enough that Marlon went home for a bit and left Vic in charge until the dinner rush and Robert let Chas go into the back to have a lie down. 

He’s currently got his elbows pressed into the bar, his phone so close to his face he’s almost gone cross-eyed as he reads through articles about the next Star Wars film. Which is normally something he’d do while “watching” Aaron play video games, or while “listening” to Adam speak to him. But needs must this afternoon. 

He doesn’t even look up when the door opens, figuring it’s Dan on his lunch break or something like that. He doesn’t even move a muscle, in fact, until a flash of blonde hair flops in front of him. 

“Hiya,” he says, slightly embarrassed by how startled he must sound. 

“Hiya. Nice to see you wearing clothes.” 

His eyes grow very, very large as he leans in and whispers, “Could you please not say things like that in public? I don’t want to get run out of town with pitchforks.” 

Liv laughs, and unsurprisingly, it’s just like Aaron’s. And he’s just about to concede a point to nature over nurture when he remembers the only family member they’ve got in common. 

He almost gags at the prospect. 

“Where’s Aaron?” he asks instead, a slight hitch of panic sneaking up his spine. “Is he… is he alright? Did something happen?”

“Alright, settle down,” she replies with typical teenage exasperation. “We don’t want you to have a heart attack, old man.” 

Robert glares at her. It has little to no effect. 

“Adam called him with some scrap emergency. I wasn’t really paying attention when he told me the specifics. Said I could either go with him or come here to bother Chas.” 

“Well, she’s in the back having a lie down, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the company if you want to go through.” 

Something sinister oozes into Liv’s expression. Something Robert likes to label: Teenage Troublemaking. 

“I’m alright here,” she says, sitting up straighter, plastering on a smile and proving Robert’s point. 

“Well I can’t keep you company. I have work to do,” he says, suddenly very, very nervous about being around Liv without Aaron as a buffer. 

She looks around at the near empty pub then turns to him, unimpressed. “I think you’ll be able to manage.” 

“Fine. What can I get ya?” 

“Pint, ta.” 

He leans back and studies her. “What are you? Fifteen?”

“Sixteen,” she spouts back in a huff. 

He pretends to think it over for a second before saying, “Still not eighteen, though.” 

“What are you, the maths police? Fine, DSI Sugden, can I have a coke? Or is that too risque for you?” 

“How do you know my surname?” 

She shrugs. “Adam said you were Vic’s brother. Doesn’t take a genius.”

She’s got a point there. 

“So… coke? Or is your memory on the blink?” she presses, waving her hand in front of his face. And it’s suddenly no wonder to him why her mum lets her traipse all over the UK without her. 

“I suppose I could do ya one of those, s’long as it’s not got any Bacardi in it.” 

She smiles at that, going straight past narky and settling on… humble? That can’t be right. 

Robert gets her the coke anyhow, watches her take a few sips in quiet contemplation before he asks, “You eat anything yet?” 

She shrugs, just one shoulder this time, casting her eyes down at the bar and playing with the condensation on her glass and that? That’s shyness. Which is the last thing he would’ve expected from her. 

“Got a fully stocked kitchen back there, and the best chef in Yorkshire,” he tempts her, resisting the urge to reach out and poke her arm. 

“My mum didn’t give me much money when I left and… well, Aaron’s not had a chance to give me any either yet.” 

“It’s on me,” Robert replies without even thinking. Literally. The words come out of his mouth without passing any filters. And it’s not even so he can win brownie points with Aaron. It’s just… she’s hungry. And she’s not an awful human being to be around. So… well… there you have it.

“You sure?” she asks, tipping her head up and looking at him with big blue eyes that are Aaron all over. 

“Anything ya like.” 

She’s smiling again finally, sitting up straight and everything, her expression relaxed as she says confidently, “I’ll just have a cheeseburger, ta.” 

“I think we can manage that,” he says with a wink because he’s a total wanker. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. And maybe that’s just because he’s giving her a free meal but still, he’ll take it. 

~*~

Liv has finished her burger and chips, is three cokes in and is still there, keeping Robert company. 

He texted Aaron about an hour ago, let him know where Liv was, that she was safe. And the gratitude Aaron had texted back was enough to make Robert blush. 

Well, the gratitude and the borderline pornographic comments about what he was planning to do to Robert later. 

The pub has gotten a little busier, so Robert hasn’t had much time to just stop and chat with Liv, but when he has their topics of conversation have stretched far and wide from school (Liv hates it) to football (Liv is bizarrely a Liverpool fan like her brother) to music (Liv has rubbish taste). 

It’s been… fun. Or at least not as torturous as Robert remembered when Vic was younger, nipping at his heels all the time. Vic even came out and joined them at one point, which was the low ebb of Robert’s afternoon. One little sister picking on him is bad enough, but two? 

Now, though, things have settled down. And if Robert didn’t know any better, he’d think Liv was looking rather pensive. 

He wasn’t aware that teenagers could do pensive. 

“Everything alright?” Robert asks, carrying over a tray of wet pint glasses and setting it down before whipping the clean towel off his shoulder. 

She looks up at him, proper little mardy frown n’all before she sighs, slumps her shoulders, and says, “He didn’t tell me about him and Ed.” 

Oh. 

“A whole month and just… nothin’. Like I didn’t even matter.” 

“Liv, look, I’m sure he had his reasons, and I’m even more sure that it had nothing to do with you not mattering. He loves you. That much is obvious.”

“Then why’d I have to find out this way? After sending him a stupid happy anniversary text that never got returned and panicking my way here. He doesn’t… he doesn’t tell me stuff. He doesn’t trust me.” 

“Hey,” he says as he watches her pull inside herself the same way Aaron does. Turtle Mode, Robert calls it. 

He pushes again, resting his hand over her forearm and saying a firmer, “ _Hey_ ,” that makes her thankfully look up at him. 

“Aaron trusts you. I know he does. It’s just… you know how he is. He doesn’t like worrying people, so he bottles stuff up. But that’s not on you. And it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.” 

“Is that why he didn’t tell me about you?” 

“You what?” Robert stalls because he doesn’t like where this is going.

“About you… ‘n ‘im.” 

At this particular moment in time, the only thing Robert can hear is a high-pitched screeching in his ears. 

“It’s okay, I won’t tell him that I know. But it’s kind of obvious. I mean, maybe not to Adam, but this whole ‘attached at the hip’ thing and then I show up and you’re just standing there in your pants, pretending Aaron isn’t there when Aaron’s car was still at his flat and I checked literally every single place he ever goes on foot. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to put two and two together.”

He can’t tell if she’s fishing or just really, incredibly perceptive. But either way, the only answer he can say right now is a lie. 

“He’s not… Liv, we’re not-”

“Boyfriends?” she asks, and Robert almost chokes on his tongue. Because they only just got together last night, and Robert isn’t even sure if Aaron’s fully gotten over Ed yet. Which means using the word “boyfriend” with him would be tantamount to setting off a nuclear bomb in the middle of the village. 

“Please don’t tell him you think we’re boyfriends,” he pleads, because the absolute last thing he needs is for Aaron to freak out and take a step _backward_ when they’re finally going _forward_. 

“It’s true then, innit? I’m right? About you ‘n ‘im?” 

“Maybe… maybe someday,” he allows himself to admit. “If he wants to. But everything else… it’s new.” 

She nods like she gets it, like she really, _really_ gets it. And suddenly Robert remembers all the stories about Liv’s mum, about their childhood together, and about how Aaron's sister had to grow up almost as fast as Aaron did. 

“How about I get you a piece of cake,” he asks, even catching himself off guard by how out-of-the-blue the offer is. 

“I’m not eight,” she says, but her eyes tell a different story. 

Which is why Robert says a bright, “One piece of chocolate cake, coming up!” and heads off to the kitchen to get it because he needs just a minute or two to not be under the scrutiny of Aaron’s little sister. 

A few minutes not to think about the word _boyfriend_ and how nice that might sound coming off of Aaron’s lips. 

~*~

There’s a newcomer at the bar when Robert returns with Liv’s cake, and all Robert can do is groan. 

“What can I get ya?” he asks after the cake has been safely delivered. 

“Pint,” Andy replies. Or, well, _grunts_ more like. No “ta,” no “cheers,” no “thanks,” just barely leashed animosity, just like the good old days. 

He pours Andy his pint then goes to move back to Liv, see how she’s getting on. But apparently today is Talk About Robert’s Non-Existent Love Life Day because Andy calls him back with a bitter, “Where’s your boyfriend?” 

He smiles in a way that he hopes is like a shark but that feels more like a guppy, with Andy. “Ain’t got one of those. Sorry to disappoint.” 

“You’ll break his heart eventually, you know,” Andy grumbles like he’s not even listening to Robert. Which wouldn’t be the first time. “Just like you broke your wife’s and just like you’re gonna break Vic’s. And Diane’s. And anyone else you come into contact with.” 

There’s something about his tone that clues Robert into the fact that Andy is already drunk. And Robert… well, he can’t help but stick the boot in, can he? 

“What’s the matter, Andy? Katie dump ya again?” 

The pure hatred in Andy’s eyes tells Robert two things: 1) He hit the nail on the head with that one. And 2) He and his brother will never, _ever_ be anything but enemies. 

“S’none of yer business,” he hisses.

Robert grabs the bar with both hands, leans in nice and close before he says, “And my life is none of yours.” 

He thinks it’s over. Hopes it’s over. But then Andy has the balls to say, “S’only a fad anyway. Think Aaron’s cottoned on to that fact yet?”

He wants to hit him. Robert wants to deck Andy so badly it physically hurts. But instead, he calls out for Vic to watch the bar and heads through the pub, weaving around to the tables out back. 

Once he’s there, he lets himself seethe. Proper _seethe_. One leg bouncing and two fists clenching as he shuts his eyes tight and tries to control his breathing. He’s so tense, though, that he almost swings out when someone grabs his shoulder. 

“Don’t hit me. I come bearing cake,” Liv says as she sits down next to him, handing her plate over. “Look like you need it more than I do. S’a clean fork, if you’re wondering.” 

“I’m an adult. I don’t need cake,” Robert replies, completely aware of how much he sounds like a toddler in a strop. 

Liv just raises one eyebrow at him. 

“Fine, I’ll eat it. But only because it would be a shame for Vic’s double chocolate cake to go to waste.” 

“Right. A shame,” Liv deadpans. “So that guy in there?” 

Robert pauses for one long, uncomfortable minute before admitting, “My brother.” 

“Mm. Seems like a prat.” 

Robert almost spits his cake out when his laugh sneaks up on him. He swallows instead, looking at Liv’s smiling face and feeling incapable of resisting smiling himself. 

“He is a prat.” 

“Good to know,” she says as she gets to her feet. “Aaron text. Said he’s back at the Mill. Says you’re coming over for tea?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be over once Charity gets back.”

“Any good at cooking? Or did Vic get all the cooking genes?” 

Robert narrows his eyes at her. “Bit of a dab hand, I suppose. Why?” 

“Oh, you know, just don’t fancy eating burned chicken tonight, if you wanted to cook.” 

He pretends to think about it before putting her out of her misery. “Think I can manage that. Could pick up some ingredients before I come. Any requests?” 

“Cheese,” is all she replies. “Anything with cheese.” 

And that right there is something that Robert can get behind. 

~*~

Robert is nervous as he stands outside the door to the Mill. He’s fairly certain that he’s never been this nervous in his entire life, in fact, which is ridiculous given how many times in the past month he’s been in this exact position. 

It’s not really the same position, though, is it? Because the last time he saw Aaron, they had sex. And now he’s coming over to cook tea for Aaron and his little sister. And it’s suddenly like the entire world has just tipped on its axis, chucking him off into the unknown. 

Liv’s the one to answer the door, and Robert can’t tell if that makes him more or less wound up. Any ice that remains, though, shatters when she asks critically, “What’re you cookin’?” 

He opens the bag from the shop to show her the contents. “Lasagna. That alright with you?” 

She shrugs, her indifference wafting off her in waves as she turns around and heads back into the flat, leaving Robert to follow. 

There’s a sharp tug in his chest when he sees Aaron coming down the stairs. And if Liv hadn’t already been suspicious about them, the way they both freeze in place and just stare at one another would’ve done it for sure. 

Aaron’s fresh from the shower, his hair a wet mass of curls and his feet completely bare as a smile creeps slowly across his face. The volume of it turning up, up, up until he’s practically beaming. 

Robert would call him soft if his face wasn’t aching from how wide he’s smiling right now, too. 

He wants to touch him, wants to run his fingers through Aaron’s hair, pull his body in close, press his hands beneath the black jumper Aaron’s chosen for tonight. He just wants to be _near him_ , close enough to feel the warmth of his skin. But as far as Aaron knows, Liv hasn’t got a clue that they’re any sort of together. And so, once again, Robert finds himself waiting. 

It turns out, he doesn’t have to wait for long. 

Aaron helps him in the kitchen while Liv watches TV, the pair of them stealing touches whenever they’re sure Liv isn’t looking. Their hands swiping together, fingers on the back of a neck, an arm snaked around a waist. Every single touch keying Robert up until he feels like he’s going mad with it, this _need_. 

They have a long night ahead of them, though, starting with the lasagna Robert cooked from his mum’s recipe and moving to what’s apparently a typical movie night with Liv and Aaron. 

“Saw IV?” Robert asks as the three of them settle on the sofa, Aaron in the middle, so close to Robert he can feel his skin prickle from the proximity. “They made four of these?” 

“Nine, actually,” Aaron supplies cheerily as he scoots just a little closer to Robert, taking every single inch he can get away with. “This is the one we’re on in our classic horror series rewatch.” 

“This is not a classic,” Robert says flatly. The tandem snort of derision from the siblings next to him, though, tells him they don’t quite agree. 

“And what, Star Trek is?” Liv asks. 

Robert. Is. Appalled. 

“You told her about Star Trek?” he asks, turning to face Aaron and gaping at him. 

“Soz. Didn’t know it were a secret.” 

“It should be,” Liv chimes in. “Proper embarrassing, that is.” 

“Coming from the girl who thinks Saw IV is classic cinema.” 

“Alright, alright, pack it in. We’ve got a film to watch,” Aaron cuts in. 

“Truce?” Robert asks, looking over Aaron’s head at Liv. 

She nods. “Truce.” 

The film is terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way Aaron and Liv won’t keep their gobs shut during it. But despite how horrible the film is, the experience itself is a rather pleasurable one. Especially when Aaron throws a blanket over his lap that Robert is able to share, facilitating a little hand-on-thigh action out of Liv’s view. 

Liv is asleep by the end of the film, which means when Robert goes to get ready to leave, Liv doesn’t hear Aaron ask him to stay. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, knowing what it’ll look like come morning. 

Aaron takes a moment to pause and think before kissing Robert right there on the sofa, in front of Liv n’all. 

“I’m sure.” 

He’s sure. 

~*~

Robert is already on the bed in his boxers once Aaron’s got Liv settled in the spare room. And even fully clothed, watching Aaron walk into a bedroom is a sight to behold. 

He crawls across the bed, grabs the front of Aaron’s jumper and drags him into a kiss that sets Robert’s world on fire. The taste of beer and popcorn still lingering on both of their tongues as the kiss deepens to the point of madness. 

When Aaron pulls away from it, Robert whimpers. 

“My sister is just across the hall,” Aaron says with a slight laugh at the look that must be on Robert’s face. The one of complete devastation. 

“I thought I was on a promise?” he asks, running his hands beneath Aaron’s jumper despite his protestations about his sister being within earshot. 

“Robert,” he warns, but there’s still a laugh buried in his tone. 

“Aaron,” Robert purrs back. And then his fingers catch hold of Aaron’s nipple and all bets are off. 

“We have to be quiet though,” Aaron says seriously, his voice muffled by the way he’s currently tearing his jumper over his head. 

“Quiet. Got it,” Robert replies as he works on Aaron’s belt, popping the button on his jeans and unzipping the fly before pushing his jeans and boxers down in one go. 

Aaron is proper laughing now, for some reason. It’s quiet, but it’s there as he steps out of his clothes and helps Robert remove his own briefs before tumbling awkwardly onto the bed and accidentally kneeing Robert in the stomach in the process. 

“Sorry,” he says even though he doesn’t sound it at all. 

“It’s a good thing you’re sexy,” Robert replies as he arranges Aaron on top of him. 

Aaron leans in, his voice dripping sex when he hums, “And it’s a good thing you’re mine,” against Robert’s lips. 

In the end, they don’t stay very quiet at all. Aaron rides Robert until he feels like he’s going to shatter into a million pieces and they come in near unison, their lips pressed together, panting curses into one another’s mouth. But it’s perfect, so bloody perfect, that Robert falls asleep with a wide smile on his face knowing that he won’t need his dreams tonight. 

Because tonight, he’s got the real thing. 


	8. Chapter 8

Aaron’s in love. He thinks. Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

Maybe. 

He feels vaguely ill most of every day, his heart pounds so hard every time he’s around Robert it feels like it’s going to explode against the walls of his chest, and he shivers whenever Robert touches him. So either he’s in love, or there are some serious health concerns he should look into. 

It didn’t happen overnight. It’s been a few months since the second time they had sex, but at the beginning all Aaron felt was a near crippling desire to _touch_. Now, though, down the line as he is, touching isn’t enough. No, Aaron wants to burrow inside of Robert and wear him like one of Robert’s posh suits. 

There’s a chance him and Liv have been watching too many horror films. 

That’s beside the point, though. The point is, Aaron may well be in love with Robert. Even though he’s not found the bottle to say it yet, that doesn’t mean it’s not true. And he knows exactly why he’s been dragging his feet about vocalising it. 

Like the proper coward he is, he’s been waiting for Robert to say it first. But he’s starting to realise that’s probably not gonna happen. Robert’s been treating Aaron with kid gloves from the start, afraid to step on his toes, scare him off like Aaron’s some sort of skittish woodland creature. So there’s no way he’s gonna take that step before Aaron even if he feels the same. 

If. 

Aaron hates that word. 

Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Robert doesn’t love him. Maybe it’s all pointless anyway. Aaron doesn’t know. He doesn’t know _anything_ apart from he’s probably in love with Robert Sugden. And somehow, for now, that’s enough.

He never felt this way with Ed. That’s another problem. Never felt this out of control and grounded at the same time. So does that mean he didn’t love Ed? Or he doesn’t love Robert? He can’t flipping tell, which is another reason why he’s stayed quiet on the matter all this time. Until today, anyway. Aaron has made the decision that he’s gonna tell Robert _today_. 

It’s their three-month anniversary, and because Robert is a soft lad, he’s planned a picnic for them to celebrate. 

There are so many things wrong with that statement that Aaron can’t even begin to unpack it. 

He’s agreed to go along with the plan, of course, because he maybe-probably-definitely loves Robert and the sun may as well shine out of Robert’s arse. But that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna take the mick for the entirety of the date. 

It’s a flaming picnic, for pity’s sake. Celebrating being together for three months like it’s a milestone of some sort. 

Why does Aaron love him again? 

He absolutely does not spend an obscene amount of time in the shower that morning, scrubbing himself clean. Nor does he trim his beard and put on his “good” aftershave. Because that would be ridiculous. So would spending a good half hour picking out an outfit - his most form-fitting jeans, a tight white henley Robert has practically torn in half on numerous occasions in order to get to skin, and the purple hoodie Robert keeps trying to steal. 

He’s not trying to look good for their anniversary because it’s not an actual anniversary. It’s just a day. And it’s not a picnic, if you think about it. It’s just a meal in the middle of a field. Possibly by water. And there might be a blanket involved. 

Bloody hell, he’s going on an anniversary picnic. 

He’s expecting Robert to show up in a three-piece suit. Which is why he’s more than a little shocked when he comes outside to see Robert leaning on his Porsche wearing casual blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blue zip-up jumper. 

“Where’s the blazer?” Aaron asks with a crooked smile as he forces himself not to skip down the driveway. 

Robert smirks. “Thought you’d appreciate this more.” 

Aaron drags his eyes down Robert’s body slowly, snagging on the casual trainers he didn’t even know Robert owned before trailing back up, his eyes pressing into every hill and valley as a flush bleeds up the back of his neck. 

“You’re right,” is all he manages to say, his voice barely more than a rasp. And Robert looks so smug when Aaron lands back on his face that he almost ruins the effect entirely. 

Almost. 

“So where we goin’?” he asks as he approaches where Robert is still leaning against the car, running his hands down Robert’s biceps and squeezing a little in appreciation. 

Robert leans in and kisses the tip of his nose (soft), takes a hand out of his pocket so he can entwine his fingers with Aaron’s (softer), and brings Aaron’s hand to his lips (softest). 

“On a picnic,” he replies brightly. 

Aaron rolls his eyes so hard he’s worried they’ll get stuck that way. “I know that. I’m asking _where_. Like an actual location? One that hopefully doesn’t involve me getting murdered in the middle of nowhere?” 

“Ah, an actual location,” he parrots before taking Aaron’s pointer finger and sucking it into his mouth.

Aaron’s knees almost buckle. 

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Robert replies once he’s done being obscene in public. 

His eyes look almost like emeralds when he’s like this, mischievous, teasing. And it never fails to take Aaron’s breath away. 

Add that to the list of physical symptoms of love and/or imminent death. 

They drive well outside the village, nowt but the quiet hum of the radio to break the silence. It’s one of Aaron’s stations even though the rule is “driver picks the music.” And something about that makes Aaron feel so inexplicably _fond_ he wants to jump out of the vehicle while it’s still moving. 

That can’t be a natural reaction to have, can it? 

As expected, there’s a sweeping field once they stop, complete with some trees and a small lake to break up the landscape. But the main thing Aaron notices when he gets out of the car is that there doesn’t seem to be another living soul for miles around them. 

He’s never been here before, but he can already feel himself wanting to come back. 

When Robert pulls a giant picnic basket out of the boot, Aaron is even gladder that they’re in the middle of nowhere so no one can see him within fifty feet of that monstrosity. 

“What?” Robert asks in response to the horrified look on Aaron’s face. “Did you expect me to bring the food and drinks in a series of plastic bags?” 

“Maybe,” Aaron replies with a shrug that makes Robert laugh for some reason. 

“You love it.” 

_I love you_ , he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. As soon as he opens his mouth the words crumble to ash. 

“There better not be cucumber sandwiches in there,” he warns instead as he follows Robert to the edge of the lake. 

“Don’t worry!” Robert calls back over his shoulder. “I got only the butchest food I could find. Dead animals. Hard bread. We’ll be eating like cavemen.” 

He pulls a rolled up blanket out of the top of the basket and unfurls it once he’s found a spot he likes in the shade cast by the towering trees nearby, then turns to look at Aaron. 

“But if you’re really worried, we could crush the tinnies against our heads once we’re through with them.” 

He winks, and Aaron falls further in love. The prat. 

The food turns out to be pretty good. It’s mostly just sandwich ingredients, crisps and beer, with a little bit of salmon that Aaron can’t help but call soft. It makes for a nice lunch, though, and Aaron doesn’t know why he’s surprised by that. Every step of today has been about Robert doing things that Aaron would like. Why should the food be any different? 

Right now Robert is in the process of telling a story about Jimmy. Last month, Robert used some of his savings to buy into Home James, and even though Aaron can tell he actually likes his third job, he still spends most of his time whinging over it. 

“The file had ketchup all over it!” he exclaims, waving his sandwich around like a weapon. 

“Sounds like Jimmy,” Aaron responds with a shrug. 

“Sounds like Jimmy,” Robert mutters sarcastically. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to explain to a customer why they need to re-sign their contracts because one of the partners spilled his lunch all over the original?” 

“Why didn’t you make Jimmy do it if it’s such a bother?” 

“Why didn’t I make Jimmy do it,” he mutters again, the repetition making Aaron snort this time. “Because if I made Jimmy do it, he’d somehow cock it up and we’d be down one of our biggest contracts, that’s why.” 

“Is that so?” Aaron asks, mostly to see if Robert will repeat him again. 

He does. 

It’s hilarious. 

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, affronted, which is a surprisingly good look on him. 

Aaron tries his luck. “What am I laughing at?” 

“That’s what I said. What are you laughing at?” 

Aaron only laughs harder this time while trying to ask, “Is there an echo out here?” 

The light finally clicks above Robert’s head. “Oh ha ha, very funny. I’m glad my pain amuses you.” 

He snickers. “Are you glad your pain amuses me?”

“Alright, that’s it!” Robert shouts. “I’ve had enough of your back chat.” 

He drops his sarnie at that, pushes everything that’s between them out of the way, causing food and tinnies to go flying until he’s able to settle over top of Aaron, pinning his body to the blanket. 

“Not so funny now, are ya?” he purrs as he pins Aaron’s hands above his head. 

Aaron just _mmms_ in response. 

Robert dives in, places a hard kiss right to Aaron’s lips before pulling back and looking down at Aaron as if he’s asking for permission. 

Aaron rolls his hips upward, opting to avoid talking for the time being. 

Robert smiles, the shark-like one, before pressing his lips to Aaron’s neck, sucking a hot line up to the spot behind his ear that drives him mad. And the sound Aaron makes… well, he’d be embarrassed if he weren’t in the middle of nowhere with the man he loves. 

Fuck, he forgot about that. 

“Robert,” he tries to say, but Robert apparently wants silence, too, because he presses his lips to Aaron’s again, hard then soft, pliant, slipping his tongue into Aaron’s mouth and licking the back of his teeth, and Aaron figures it can wait so long as Robert doesn’t stop doing what he’s doing. 

Robert lets go of Aaron’s wrists so he can grab his face, hold him still while he deepens the kiss. And Aaron can’t even remember what breathing is supposed to feel like, but for some reason he doesn’t care. Not when he’s got Robert on top of him tearing him apart like it’s his sole purpose in life to make Aaron beg. 

When he palms Aaron’s crotch, the noise Aaron makes is even more embarrassing than the last. And this time he repeats it, over and over and over again as Robert massages him through his jeans. 

“Please, Robert,” he manages to gasp out, sucking in some much needed oxygen in the process. 

Robert tips his head back so he can smile at Aaron, the possessive one this time, the one that says _I own every inch of you and you know it_. And god, does Aaron _know it_ , more than even Robert could guess. And he doesn’t even care at this point. 

It’s why he says, “please,” again, thrusting his hips upwards as hard as he can. Something dark slipping through Robert’s expression when he thrusts back like he’s just as lost as Aaron is. 

He really hopes Robert loves him, too. 

That’s not the point of this activity, though. This is about _need_ , and right now he needs Robert’s hands on him. A fact that Robert seems to understand as he works on undoing Aaron’s belt, going for his button and zip next before shoving his jeans and pants down to mid-thigh. 

Instead of taking Aaron in his hand, he undoes his own jeans, getting them out of the way in the same fashion before lining them up and thrusting one smooth stroke that makes Aaron see stars. 

“Do that… do that again,” Aaron pants into Robert’s mouth. 

“Your wish is my command,” Robert replies cheekily before groaning at the way he thrusts down into Aaron again, just how he asked. 

Robert wraps his hand around them both as best he can, pinning them together before thrusting down into Aaron once more, and from that point forward Aaron is lost. The only thing that exists in the world is the feel of Robert’s cock sliding against his, slick with precum, both of them so hard there’s no way this is gonna last. Which is why he’s not surprised when he feels his orgasm coiling inside of him long before he wants it to. 

“Rob… Rob, I’m gonna… gonna come,” he warns, though why he bothers, he’s got no clue. From the way Robert’s eyes are screwed shut, the way the movements of his hips are stuttered and uncoordinated, he’s not far off either. It’s why they both come at almost the exact same moment, spilling between them, all over the tops they forgot to take off. 

“Bloody hell,” Robert hisses, and Aaron can’t tell if it’s from the orgasm or from the fact that he just realized he’s got cum all over his t-shirt. And Aaron thinks _it’s now or never_ , because what better time to tell someone you love them than immediately after sex? At least then if you need to back out you can blame it on the heat of the moment. 

“Robert, I l-” he starts, but once again, he can’t seem to get the words to form on his lips, his mind constantly retreating to the last time he told a man he loved him and how flaming awful that turned out. 

“Yeah?” Robert asks quietly, looking away from where he was trying to clean up his top the best he could. 

“I… I like you,” Aaron replies because he’s a coward. “A lot. I like you a lot.” 

Robert smiles at him, scrunching his face up a little in confusion before saying, “I kind of already gathered that, but cheers anyway.” 

He leans in and presses another kiss to Aaron’s mouth, holding it for a few long, aching seconds before pulling back and saying, “I like you too, for the record.” 

And Aaron supposes that at least he’s got that. 

~*~

Vic’s Sunday roast is one of the best things Aaron has ever eaten in his life. He’s had roasts before - Marlon’s experimentally fancy one, his mum’s dry as a bone one - but nowt compares to Vic’s. It’s cooked to perfection every single time, and Aaron would wonder why it’s never short of flawless if he hadn’t known Vic for over half his life. 

Perfection is kinda her thing. 

They’re doing another one of their double date things a few days after the picnic, the four of them sitting around the table like proper adults. And the weight of the words _I love you_ is still sitting squarely in the middle of Aaron’s chest. 

It’s not something to be dwelling on now, though, what with Vic and Adam sat across from him. But it seems to be all he can think of lately to the point that he’s going mad from it. 

“So, how was the great anniversary picnic?” Vic asks at the exact moment Aaron shoves a large chunk of potato into his mouth. 

Perfect timing, basically. 

“It was… nice,” Robert replies, but his voice is too formal for the topic of conversation and the blush flashing across his cheekbones gives him away. 

Adam slaps his hand on the table and guffaws. “Yous had sex in a field, didn’t yas?” 

Aaron has to hide his face, he blushes so badly. 

“Adam!” Vic exclaims as she swats his arm. 

“What? Like there’s any place in the whole of Yorkshire where these two haven’t copped off.” 

The blush _burns_ as Vic scrunches her face in disgust. 

“Can we not talk about my brother’s sex life, please?” 

“Yeah, Adam,” Robert chimes in. “Just because you’re not getting any, doesn’t mean you need to pile on us.” 

Aaron looks up at Robert at seemingly the exact moment that Robert realizes he brought his sister’s sex life into the discussion. And the play of emotions would be hilarious if not for the fact that they’re still sorta talking about how Aaron and Robert got each other off in a public place. 

Robert and Vic look at each other, then look away immediately. And Adam seems to think it’s the funniest thing in the world while Aaron just sits there, perpetually embarrassed.

What a night. 

He’s playing Fifa with Adam later, talking about nonsense and trying their best to beat each other while Vic and Robert clean up in the kitchen. And it all feels so domestic that Aaron is dizzy.

It’s never felt this way before. They’ve been doing Sunday tea at Adam and Vic’s for months now but before tonight, it’s always just felt like a normal night at his mate’s house. Good food, good company, and a chance to thrash Adam on the XBox, what’s not to like? But now… now it seems like it _means_ something, and it’s got Aaron terrified. 

“Hey, y’alright?” Adam asks once Aaron has been silent for too many consecutive minutes, letting Adam’s voice just wash over him like white noise. 

“Yeah, sound,” Aaron lies. 

“Only cause it’s usually not this easy to beat you and your face looks like a wet weekend.” 

He digs his fingers into Aaron’s side at that, making him twitch. 

“I’m fine, Ad. Just… gotta lot on my mind.” 

“This about Robert?” 

Aaron looks at the side of his face briefly before turning his attention back to the match. 

“Why would you think it’s about Robert?” 

Adam shrugs. “Because it’s not like you’ve got much else goin’ on in your life right now. Ed is out of the picture finally, your mom and Paddy are doing good, and work’s been better than ever.” He shrugs again. “Not much left on the list.” 

“Yeah, well, Robert is just fine,” he says as adamantly as he can manage. 

“Well, he seems like a pretty decent bloke. Doesn’t seem to mind playing wifey, either, which means less dishes for us to wash, right?” 

Adam laughs at his joke, and Aaron does his best to mimic him. It’s hard, though, when his heart is beating so loud he can’t even hear himself think. The word _wifey_ being the only one that pops up in his thoughts, circling around like a taunt as his vision starts to blur. 

“Yes!” Adam shouts, startling Aaron out of his head. Apparently he’s scored another goal, his lead now upped to three, but Aaron doesn’t care right now. Aaron doesn’t have space for anything but fear. 

They’re walking home later… or walking to the Mill. His home, not Robert’s, even though Robert spends more time at the Mill than at Keepers. They’re walking to _Aaron’s home_ later, though, holding hands like a proper couple, but all Aaron can think about is what Adam said. 

What if he’s going too fast? He went fast with Ed and look how that turned out. But he loves Robert. At least he thinks he does. But what if he doesn’t? What if he says he loves him and it fucks everything up? 

_What if, what if, what_ **_if_**.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Robert asks with a slight nudge at Aaron’s ribs. 

“You what?” 

Robert raises their joined hands so he can knock them gently against Aaron’s head. “You’re up here. Everything alright?” 

Aaron tries to smile, but judging by the sick look on Robert’s face he fails miserably. 

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Just a little tired. Been a long week.”

“You want me to go home?” Robert asks, his footsteps slowing like he’s preparing for Aaron to ask him to turn around. 

“No,” he bites out quickly, answering at least one question inside his head. “I want you to stay. But just… can we just sleep?”

Robert kisses his temple and smiles, the warm, fond one that’s Aaron’s favorite. “Course we can. Whatever you want.” 

_Whatever I want_ , he thinks. 

If only he knew what that was. 

~*~

It’s their anniversary again, this time the five-month anniversary of the night they first met. And Robert is insisting that they return to the club where it all began and recreate the evening or summat. 

“I never got to pull you, not properly,” Robert pouts when he brings the idea up a few days before the actual night. 

“We had sex, Robert. What more were you looking for?” 

Robert rolls his eyes, a habit he’s clearly picking up from Aaron. “Yeah, I know we had sex, I was there, remember? But I had _lines_ I was going to use. I was going to proper seduce you. And you just blew it by being all _you’re so fit, I need to have sex with you right now, sexy stranger_.” 

Aaron scoffs. “In your dreams. I probably would’ve gone home with anyone that night.” 

Robert looks hurt for a second, which is bad enough. But then that hurt morphs into his watered down version of pity - watered down because he knows how much Aaron hates when the “p” word comes into play. And Aaron is so not in the mood for any of that, so he says, “Fine, I’ll go,” even though he really doesn’t want to. 

The things he does for love, or whatever it is. 

To make this as authentic as possible, they agree to take separate taxis. And Aaron would be uncomfortable with how close this is to roleplaying if he weren’t aware of how excited Robert is about the whole thing. 

He’s a massive nerd, but he’s Aaron’s massive nerd. 

Because he’s trying to be a good boyfriend, Aaron decides to wear a suit. Or, well, most of one. He ditches the tie and waistcoat because he doesn’t wanna look completely ridiculous. Robert’s still never seen him in a suit, though, and he’s always been pretty vocal about how much he wants to. So as far as not-actually-an-anniversary presents go, he figures this is the least he can do. 

He chooses his blue one, the deep color bringing out his eyes and the well-fitted nature of it bringing out all of his other assets. And he leaves the top few buttons on his crisp white shirt undone because he’s rebellious like that. 

This is so stupid. 

The club is just as sweltering as it was the last time, moreso even given the increasing temperatures outside. It’s louder than he remembers too, the bass thudding in his chest, making his heart jump. And the smell - the heady mix of so many colognes, perfumes, sweat and alcohol - makes him dizzy where he stands. 

He makes a b-line for the bar, needing alcohol if he’s going to withstand this experience. But before his drink even arrives, there’s a body pressing into the space beside him. 

In the hopes of getting this over as quickly as possible, he puts on his best _fuck me_ eyes. But when he looks up at the man standing next to him, he quickly realizes it’s the wrong person. 

“Hey sexy,” is the guy’s opener, and Aaron would laugh if the guy weren’t so large and Aaron weren’t so afraid of getting into a fight.

Instead, he just says a simple, “I’m with someone,” and waits for the bloke to take the hint. 

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. 

“I like a man who’s hard to get,” he says, running one hand up Aaron’s spine. And he’s about to get up and deck the guy anyway before Robert finally shows up on the scene. 

“I believe he said he’s with someone,” Robert practically roars over the music. And Aaron isn’t usually one for being protected - the few times Ed tried to do it Aaron had wanted to deck _him_ for making him feel like some sort of damsel in distress. But there’s something so inexplicably sexy about Robert doing it that it makes Aaron’s pants feel incredibly tight. 

The bloke goes away finally in a strop, leaving Robert staring blankly at Aaron as Aaron just sits patiently and waits for him to begin. 

“Y’alright?” he asks eventually when it’s clear that Robert has frozen for some reason. 

“What?” Robert asks as he shakes his head to loosen the cobwebs. 

“I asked if you were alright.” 

“I am, it’s just… could you stand up for a second?” 

Aaron laughs. “Is this part of your seduction? Cause I gotta say, it’s not starting off too good.” 

Robert blinks at him. “What? No. I just… could you please just stand up?” 

With another laugh, Aaron complies if only to see what the flaming hell is up with Robert right now. As soon as he’s on his feet, though, he gets it. 

The hungry look in Robert’s eyes as he drags them down Aaron’s suit-clad body tells him more than enough. 

“You wore a suit,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe as he runs his fingers under the lapels of Aaron’s jacket. 

Aaron leans in, playing the game despite his initial misgivings because there are few things in life more fun than winding Robert up.

“It’s all for you,” he whispers before running his tongue up the shell of Robert’s ear. And the way Robert’s whole body shivers is so deeply satisfying Aaron can’t help but smile. 

“Okay, okay, sit,” Robert commands, his hands on Aaron’s shoulders until he’s back on his stool. “I’m going back to first position now. Let’s try this again.” 

“First position?” Aaron laughs. “God, you are such a nerd.” 

“And you’re the one who’s dating me. What does that say about you?” Robert replies with a _tsk_ sound before winking and heading off back into the club.

_It says I’m a goner_ , he thinks. _A complete goner_. 

When Robert slides in next to him the second time, a memory lights up in Aaron’s head. He hasn’t seen this Robert much since that first night, not when he was trying to be Aaron’s mate and rarely after he got back into Aaron’s pants. 

There’s something irresistibly smooth about him, though, confident bordering on cocky, smug but still infinitely kissable. And Aaron is hit with a memory he’s managed to keep safe in all the alcoholic haze of that first month after Ed. 

He’ll never forget the press of desire he felt the first time he saw Robert Sugden smile. 

There’s no way he’s gonna make it through tonight. 

“Drinking alone?” Robert asks as he takes a seat next to Aaron, leaning one elbow on the bar top so he can face Aaron head on. 

Aaron narrows his eyes, wonders how far he can push Robert tonight. “Yeah, my prat of a boyfriend stood me up. Had to stay late at work.” 

Robert bites his lip, either in agitation or in an attempt to make Aaron even hornier. Regardless of intent, though, the second option becomes Aaron’s reality. 

“Shame for him,” Robert says smoothly, so smoothly that Aaron finds himself leaning in closer, pulled by Robert’s gravity. 

“Yeah, well, he does it a lot. Fancies himself the next Bill Gates or summat. S’a bit annoying, actually. Been thinking of binning him.” 

Robert laughs deep from his gut, his eyes lighting up as he says, “Sounds like a bit of a wanker.”

“Oh he is. Right wanker.” 

Robert leans in like he’s about to say something else, keep the game going, before leaning back suddenly and saying, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.” 

“That’s an interesting tactic,” Aaron says while worrying that maybe he pushed Robert too far with the insults. 

“What, no. I mean,” he leans in again and runs his hand up Aaron’s thigh the same way Aaron had done to him the night they met. “If I don’t fuck you very, _very_ soon, I might not live through the night.” 

Aaron smiles, all teeth, and drags Robert in further by the collar of his jumper. “Now you’re talking my language.” 

He kisses him then, the kind of kiss that used to lead to Aaron on his knees in some skeevy bog. But Robert doesn’t let it get to that, he just pulls out of the kiss, groans deeply and complains, “It’s your fault for wearing that bloody suit.” 

He doesn’t wait for Aaron to say another word, just grabs his wrist and drags him to his feet. 

“Hey, wait, I didn’t get to finish me drink!” Aaron calls out over the pounding of the music, but Robert ignores him there too. He’s a man on a mission, apparently, and Aaron is more than willing to follow along. 

Robert’s voice is something else when he calls the taxi once they’re outside. He sounds angry, almost, put out by the fact that it’s going to be at least a thirty-minute wait. He even goes so far as to call it an emergency, which is why Aaron is just leaning against the wall of the club laughing at him when he gets off the phone. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“You. I’ve never seen you so keen before.” 

“Keen, eh? I’ll show you keen.” 

Before Aaron knows what’s hit him, Robert is all over him, pressing his body into brick and kissing him so hard his lips will probably bruise. Only he doesn’t stop there. He grips Aaron’s face - a favorite move of his - slips a thigh between Aaron’s legs and pushes upward with it, making Aaron gasp in surprise. 

“I am not fucking you here,” Aaron pants out now that he’s managed to break away from the kiss. 

Robert just presses even harder into Aaron’s crotch, causing this high-pitched whine to slip from between Aaron’s lips. 

“You sure about that?” 

_No_ , Aaron thinks. He is not sure about that. But he doesn’t get to answer because Robert’s body is off of his in a flash. 

He wants to ask him why he’s pulling back, wants to beg him not to leave, but then he sees what Robert is up to and he can’t help but laugh again. 

_Talk about keen_ , he thinks as Robert approaches the taxi that’s just pulled up, waiting for the group of girls to exit it before leaning into the passenger side window. 

“You free mate?” Aaron hears him ask, but the sounds of the busy street drown out whatever the taxi driver is saying. 

“What if I give you a hundred quid over our fare to take us home. That enough to get you to put a hold on your next pickup?” 

Aaron’s mouth falls open. No one has ever paid a hundred quid to fuck Aaron a half hour earlier than normal before. Robert is mad. 

He’s also successful, though, judging by the way he turns to Aaron and waves him over, opening the back door with the wide smile on his face that comes every time he makes a successful deal. 

“Are you crazy?” Aaron asks before getting into the car. 

“Just crazy for you,” Robert responds, and Aaron groans so deeply that his lungs ache. 

“Cheesy, mate. Dead cheesy.” 

Robert kisses his cheek then smacks his ass. “Not your mate.” 

That little tidbit is proven a hundred-fold by the way Robert spends the entire taxi ride back to Emmerdale fondling Aaron’s crotch. Which means by the time they get back to his flat, Aaron is so keyed up he’s ready to explode. 

Robert plasters himself along Aaron’s back as he tries to unlock the door, making what’s usually a simple task monumentally difficult. And eventually it gets so bad that Aaron has to shove him off just so that they don’t end up having sex in the hallway. 

Once they’re inside, Robert pounces, his whole weight put into the way he presses Aaron against the wall beside the door. And he’s so relieved that they’re finally here, in private, that he almost comes on the spot just from the way Robert is kissing him. 

Aaron calls it _the last night on earth_ , that kiss, and it never fails to drive him wild. 

They don’t move from the doorway, not even one single step, all of their energy put into exploring each other’s bodies so that their legs are just frozen in place. And Aaron feels like he’s actually on fire, like there’s flames licking his skin, lava pouring through his veins as he grips Robert’s biceps and tries to survive the assault. 

“Wallet,” Robert hisses as he reaches back to grab his own. And Aaron knows exactly what he’s talking about. 

There’s no way they’re gonna make it upstairs, not like this. But both of them usually carry supplies in their wallets, just in case. 

Usually. 

“Fuck, I’m out,” Aaron says bitterly as he tosses his wallet aside and begins kissing Robert’s neck, unable to resist putting his lips on skin when he’s this close. 

“I’ve got… fuck,” he bites out when Aaron bites him. “I’ve got lube but no condom.” 

Aaron only has to think for a second before he undoes his pants, shoves them down his legs and says, “Just do it.” 

“Are you sure?” Robert asks, his momentum slowed momentarily as he tips Aaron’s chin up so they can look each other in the eye. 

He grabs the back of Robert’s neck and drags him into another bruising kiss, biting Robert’s bottom lip before repeating, “Just. Do. It.” 

Robert doesn’t need to be told again. He begins prepping Aaron immediately, cupping his face with one hand and reaching behind him with the other hand, lubed up fingers slipping gracelessly into Aaron’s arse. 

“Come on. _More_ ,” he begs when Robert goes too slow for his liking. And that gets him a hard slap on the arse before three fingers push roughly inside of him. 

It feels like bloody heaven. 

“M’good,” Aaron says a few seconds later, even though he probably isn’t. A little pain is worth it right now, though, if it means he doesn’t have to wait any longer to get Robert inside of him. 

So he pushes at Robert’s chest, steps out of his pants and shoves Robert across the short distance to the sofa before yanking down Robert’s jeans and pants and straddling him once he’s sitting down. 

The first push of Robert inside of him, nothing but skin for the first time ever… it’s inexplicable. It’s all Aaron’s ever wanted, somehow. All he’s ever needed. And Robert seems to feel the same, judging by the way he throws his head back and cries out at the sensation. 

Sex has never felt like this before. Not even once. 

He rides Robert hard and fast, unwilling to wait for his orgasm, his lips sucking on Robert’s, his tongue pushing into Robert’s mouth, Robert in and on and over him, _all encompassing_ as Aaron pushes them both closer to climax. 

The words are on his tongue again, right on the tip, ready to spill out, but all that comes out is a garbled cry of Robert’s name as he comes all over both of them. 

Robert follows a few seconds later, and the way Aaron can feel him filling him up makes his spent cock twitch in appreciation. He doesn’t have it in him to go again, though, not right now anyway. But if he did. 

_If he did_. 

Robert takes off his jumper before Aaron has a chance to pull off of him, the soft fabric waiting behind him as he slips off Robert’s cock and Robert cleans him up, back and front. And it’s such a sweet gesture that Aaron can feel even more tiny shards of his heart breaking apart in Robert’s name. 

He often wonders if there’ll be anything left of him once Robert’s done. 

There’s a furrow in Robert’s brow as soon as he’s finished, and Aaron takes a gamble at the reason and says, “I got tested when we first got together,” because maybe Robert is worrying about what they just did. How careless they were. 

“What?” Robert asks as he blinks up at Aaron, still looking a little lost. 

“The condom. I’m clean.” 

There’s a smile on Robert’s face now, but it’s small, still pensive, and more than a little worrisome. 

“I got tested about a month before I came here. The only person I was with in that time was Chrissie.” 

Aaron swallows hard, but Robert’s hand immediately rises to his cheek to soothe him. 

“We always used condoms for birth control. There’s nothing to worry about.” 

“Good,” Aaron says on a sigh that’s one hundred percent relief. “Y’alright?” 

“Hm?” Robert asks again. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just tired. Is it okay if we just go to bed?” 

Aaron leans in and kisses the tip of his nose (soft), takes a hand off Robert’s shoulder so he can entwine his fingers with Robert’s (softer), and brings Robert’s hand to his lips (softest). 

“Bed sounds good.” 

They make it upstairs eventually, supporting each other on the way as if they’d just gone ten rounds in the ring. And then all that’s left is to remove the rest of their clothes before they can fall into bed, Robert’s head pillowed on Aaron’s chest and Aaron’s arms wrapped tightly around his body. 

“G’night,” Robert mumbles against his skin, already half asleep. 

Aaron kisses the top of his head. “G’night.” 

He doesn’t fall asleep, though. Not for a long time. Robert is already snoring lightly and Aaron is just staring around the room, _thinking_. 

Thinking about Robert’s charger plugged in behind the nightstand. 

Thinking about Robert’s spare clothes shoved in a drawer. 

Thinking about Robert’s extra bottle of cologne sitting atop Aaron’s dresser. 

Thinking about Robert’s shower gel and razor in the shower. 

Thinking about Robert’s gross healthfood cereal in the cabinet downstairs. 

Thinking about Robert’s end of the sofa, Robert’s side of the bed, Robert’s pasta machine in his messy cupboard, Robert, Robert, Robert _everywhere_ and what that means. 

What Aaron _wants_ it to mean. 

“I love you,” he whispers into Robert’s hair, the soft strands tickling his nose. “And I want you here with me.”

_Forever_ , he thinks, unable to say the word out loud even with Robert sound asleep. 

He wants Robert here forever. 

~*~

Aaron’s in love. He knows. Definitely. Probably. Maybe. 

Definitely.

And what’s more, he’s decided to ask Robert to move in with him. After all, they practically live together already anyway. Might as well make it official. 

There’s a little snag, though. He’s got no flipping clue how to ask him. Which is why he’s sitting at the bar right now, waiting out Robert’s shift, trying to figure out the words he’ll need to tell Robert just how much he loves and wants him. 

It’s a busy night tonight. All the tables are full and there’s barely even space to breathe at the bar, so Aaron’s got some privacy even though he’s surrounded by people. 

He’s got a sheet of paper in front of him, one he’d hoped to fill with the kind of soppy declarations Robert deserves. But all he’s got so far is this: 

_I love you._

_Fancy moving in with me?_

Not exactly Shakespeare. 

Robert thinks he’s writing scrapyard stuff, at least that’s what he’s told him the few times he’s been able to come around and chat. But he almost wishes Robert would just sneakily read the flipping paper so Aaron wouldn’t have to say the words out loud. 

Hang on, there’s an idea. 

No. He’s not gonna ask Robert to move in with him via note-passing like some fifteen year old chav. He wants to do this right, and he wants to do it tonight because if he has to wait one more day for this his heart might just finally give out on him. 

“Gotta go down to change a barrel,” Robert says, appearing suddenly in front of him like some kind of apparition. “How goes the scrap business?” 

“Great,” Aaron says with about as much emotion as an avocado. 

Robert laughs, then leans forward on the bar to plant a kiss on Aaron’s cheek. “Be right back.” 

Aaron nods, counting one more moment where he could have said _I love you_ without it being awkward as Robert walks away. 

He sits there for a few more minutes, staring at the paper in front of him before a newcomer walks up to the bar about two people down from him. 

“What can I do for you?” his mum asks, only barely catching Aaron’s attention as he looks blandly at the woman, dressed to the nines like she got lost on her way to Fancy Town. 

“I’m looking for my lying, cheating, scumbag of a husband,” she says, and the way the words hiss catches the attention of everyone within a ten foot radius. 

Aaron’s heart rate picks up the same way it does whenever something is about to kick off in the pub. 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, love,” his mum replies. “We’ve got loads of them ‘round here. This scumbag got a name?”

“Yes. Robert Sugden.” 

Aaron’s heart stops at the same moment his mum’s eyes make contact with his, something like panic written in the brown as her mouth flaps open and she continues to just stare at him like she thinks he might spontaneously combust. 

“Chrissie?” a familiar voice asks a few seconds later, and it takes Aaron far too long to realize that the voice belongs to Robert.

“Oh there’s my cheating scumbag of a husband. It’s nice to see you, Robert.”

Aaron’s eyes finally look toward where Robert is standing in the door to the back, Robert’s guilt-ridden eyes ping-ponging from Chrissie to Aaron to Chrissie to Aaron before he lands on Chrissie and asks, “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to get my divorce from our sham of a marriage.” 

Aaron’s heard enough. No, Aaron’s heard _more than enough_. Lying, cheating scumbag - he can’t listen to another second of this. So he gets to his feet, almost knocking his chair over in the process, and cuts a path for the front door. 

“Aaron! Wait!” he hears Robert call out over the muttering of the gossipers, filling the pub. But Aaron doesn’t want to wait. All Aaron wants to do is disappear and so he does just that. 

Once he’s outside he breaks into a run towards the Mill, thinking of nothing but getting into his car and driving. He doesn’t know where, or for how long, he just knows he has to get away. But Robert is still following him, still calling out things like, “Aaron, stop!” and “Aaron, please!” and “I can explain!” Only he can’t, can he?

What could he possibly explain? 

Aaron is far faster than Robert, so he gets to his Golf in plenty of time to open the door, shut it, and gun the engine before Robert reaches him. His heart pounding like he’s in some sort of horror film only he is, isn’t he? 

This is Aaron’s worst nightmare. 

Not again. 

_Not again._

“Aaron, please,” Robert says, his voice muffled by the window that he’s pounding on, begging to be let in. But Aaron is done with listening. Now’s the time for driving. So he puts the car into gear and puts his foot down, heading off into the night. Chrissie’s words spinning through his head the entire time.

_Lying._

_Cheating._

_Scumbag._

Not again. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Time since Aaron left: 6 minutes**

_“This is Aaron. You know what to do.”_

The _beep_ is harsh in Robert’s ear, the sound already familiar from the four messages he’s left Aaron between the Mill and the Woolpack. 

“Aaron, it’s me. Again. Look, I know you’re upset, but you have to talk to me. I can explain everything, I swear, just… please answer your phone.” 

He pauses, waits three excruciating heartbeats, then adds, “Please… please just come back.”

The last part is whispered, strained through a throat that feels like it’s closing up on him as he pushes his way into the packed pub, his heart still beating furiously in his chest. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“What happened?” Chas asks, her voice too loud right now, pulling the people around her into the conversation as it does. Which is just bloody terrific. Exactly what Robert wanted: An audience. 

He doesn’t answer her, not yet anyway. He just moves quickly around the bar - _thud, thud, thud_ \- gives a sharp nod to Charity - _thud, thud, thud_ \- and motions with his head for Chas to follow him into the back room. 

Chas stops him in the hallway, a hand on his arm and concern on her face as she says, “Your wife’s back there. Best not have this conversation in front of her.”

So it’s a conversation then. Brilliant. 

“What happened with my son?” she asks, all arms crossed and eyes beady. A sentinel at the gate.

Robert can hardly hear over the rush of blood in his head, but he decides to pull the plaster off quickly anyway. 

“He left.” 

She blinks at him a few gormless times. “What do you mean _he left_? Left where?” 

“Left the village,” he says. 

_Left me_ , he thinks. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“He bolted to his car like he was running for his life, slammed the door in my face and put his foot down.” 

“That doesn’t sound good,” she mumbles as if speaking to herself. Robert still feels the hit, though. 

It’s why his voice is laced with bitterness when he asks, “You think?” 

“Don’t get narky with me,” she shoots back, always all-guns-blazing with her. “I’m not the one who drove Aaron out of the flaming village!” 

She’s right. She isn’t the one. That title belongs to Robert and Robert alone. 

But feeling sorry for himself isn’t going to get Aaron back, so he makes a move to head back out into the bar, plan of action being getting in his car and driving around until he finds where Aaron is hiding. Only before he gets two steps away, Chas grabs his arm again. 

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.” 

He’s completely daft, because at first he assumes she just doesn’t want him to skip out on his shift. When he finally looks back into her eyes, though, there’s a steel there that causes a chill to race down his spine. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“Your wife is in there,” she says coldly. “You’re not going anywhere near my son until you sort that.” 

Fuck. Chrissie. He forgot about Chrissie. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“I didn’t mean to lie to him,” Robert says about as pathetically as he can manage. But Chas just shakes her head before he’s able to continue. 

“I’m not the one you need to be selling this to. Sort your marriage out, then maybe I’ll let you try and sort things with Aaron.” 

_Let_. He’d laugh at the idea of there being anyone that could stop him from getting on his knees and begging for Aaron to forgive him. But the steel is still there, hardening her expression to granite, and for the first time since he’s known her, Robert is afraid of Chas Dingle. 

“You’re right,” he says, even though talking to Chrissie right now is the last thing he wants to do, just slightly below having his head boiled in oil. But there’s no way Aaron is coming back to the physical representation of Robert’s past transgressions, so he needs to get rid, _now_. 

Chas leaves then, a look of pity on her face that only makes things worse as Robert gives himself a minute to settle his racing heart. 

_Thud… thud… thud…_

Chrissie is sitting on one of the dining chairs when Robert finally opens the door and heads inside, her back ramrod straight, her hands folded daintily in her lap, but the look of a killer written across her face. 

“It’s good to see you, dear,” she says in a tone dripping with disgust and malice. “How have you been?” 

“Cut the shit, Chrissie. Why are you here?” 

She raises one eyebrow and runs her fingers over the bag in her lap. “No need to be vulgar. I wouldn’t have had to come to this backwater village if it weren’t for your own incompetence.” 

“Come again?” he asks, crossing his arms and patently refusing to sit down if only to get some slight edge over her. 

“The papers, Robert,” she says as if he’s simple. “Half of them were unsigned, and I’m not waiting one more minute for my divorce from you.” 

She pulls a stack of papers out of her bag at that, ones Robert recognizes as the divorce papers he and his solicitor have been going over for months. Not because they were complicated or he was terribly concerned about the settlement, but because he had better things to be doing than that. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“You’re not getting a single pound from the business until you sign these and let me go.” 

Robert snorts, a reaction that surprises both of them. “Like as if I care about your father’s stupid business,” he hisses. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about, thanks to you.” 

That was a mistake. 

That was _definitely_ a mistake. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“Just give them to me,” he demands, putting his hand out and closing his fingers over his palm a few times in case she needs more than words to get the point. 

She pulls them back closer to her, protecting them from him. Her voice full of glee as she asks, “Why so desperate, Robert?” 

It’s almost impossible to swallow through the dryness in his throat right now. 

“You’re the one who drove all the way up here to get a few papers signed instead of putting them in the post like a normal person. And you call me desperate?” 

She laughs at him, bold as brass. And now the desert in Robert’s throat is so complete that he can’t swallow at all. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“The one you chased after,” she says, always so astute. Except when he was cheating on her with anyone he could get his hands on, of course. For some reason she was always blind to that. 

“Is he your new boyfriend?” 

“ _He_ is none of your flaming business,” Robert tries, but he knows it’s pointless. They’re not getting out of this little chat until Chrissie is done playing with her new toy. 

“Got it in one,” she says with a crooked smile that wouldn’t look out of place on a pitbull. 

“I’m not talking about Aaron with you,” he says, trying to borrow some of Chas’ steel from before. But it comes out flat right now, preoccupied as he is with Aaron, speeding out of the village into the night, heading god knows where to do god knows what with god knows who. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“So your new hapless fool has a name, then.” 

Robert really wishes he had the power to make people disappear right about now. 

“He is neither hapless nor a fool. The pair of you have nothing in common,” Robert says, and he can see that he’s landed the hit based on the way her smile flinches ever so slightly. 

“Well judging by his reaction to seeing me, he clearly isn’t well informed about your penchant for using the ones you claim to care about.” 

“I’m not using him,” he bites out, his impatience getting the better of him. An occurrence that rarely happens given how many years he’s spent dealing with the worst sorts of people and still maintaining a business class smile. 

“I lo-” he starts to say, but he cuts himself off in the nick of time. 

There’s no way in hell he’s admitting he loves Aaron without saying it to him first. 

Chrissie gets the gist, though, and he might find some joy in the way her face falls if not for the fact that she’s the reason Aaron is off on his own right now when he should be with Robert. 

He’d be finishing up his shift soon, after which they’d walk back to the Mill together, climb into bed, map the planes of each other’s bodies before passing out, sated and exhausted. 

That’s the life Robert should be living right now, not this hellscape. 

“Give me the papers so you can leave, Chrissie,” Robert says, closing the distance between them so he can reach out and grab them. And she lets him this time, silently staring at her lap as he signs what needs to be signed and drops the stack back in her upturned hands. 

“I wish I could say it’s been nice knowing you, but I’m not that good of a liar,” he says because he can’t help it. Chrissie has always managed to bring out the worst in him. 

“Don’t kid yourself, Robert,” she says before he has a chance to escape. “You’re the best liar I know. Best one Aaron knows as well, I’d wager.”

She gets to her feet at that, moves to within a foot of Robert before looking up at him as if she’s studying him, her eyes piercing through his facade before she smiles, finding what she wanted. 

“For his sake, I hope he stays away.” 

She leaves him at that, her words ringing in his ears as his heart - _thud_ \- continues - _thud_ \- to pound - _thud._

She’s wrong. That’s what he needs to settle on. He lied to her every which way and it never even grazed him, but the lie he’s been telling Aaron this whole time - it’s been eating away at him. Curling up inside of him, scarring him from the inside out. And though this isn’t the way he would’ve gone about telling Aaron, maybe it’s a good thing it’s out in the open finally. 

You can’t fix something that’s still in the process of being broken, right? 

He sulks into the bar, sick of the quiet of the backroom in Chrissie’s wake like she was a bomb that went off. He’s too lost to do much of anything other than shuffle around the bar, though, heading for the door because even though his shift isn’t over, his head just isn’t in it anymore. 

Chas will understand. 

Something catches his eye when he gets about halfway down the bar. Someone is sitting on the stool Aaron was occupying no more than twenty-five minutes ago, but there’s something underneath it. A paper that looks familiar to him. 

_“Just trying to think of some new ideas to generate money,”_ Aaron had said. Which had seemed strange, given that Robert has been working that angle of the business ever since he came back. He’s curious now, though, more so than before, so he leans down to pick up the paper. 

When he reads it, his wildly beating heart seems to stop working altogether. 

_I love you._

_Fancy moving in with me?_

Aaron loves him. Aaron _loves_ him. And he was planning on asking Robert to move in. Take that next step. Go deeper into a relationship that Robert wants to take all the way down to the finish line, if he can. 

_Aaron loves him._

And if that’s true, it doesn’t matter what Chrissie says, what Chas thinks, or what Aaron currently feels with regards to Robert, that love is _there_. 

And it’s something that Robert can work with. 

~*~

**Time since Aaron left: 1 day, 17 hours**

To Liv: 

_Is he with you?_

From Liv: 

_who_

To Liv: 

_Prince Harry. Who do you think? Aaron???_

From Liv:

_why would he be with me_

To Liv: 

…

…

…

_No reason._

The sound of Robert’s phone ringing startles him, making him jump from where he’s been sitting on Victoria’s sofa watching a rerun of _Top Gear_ because it makes him feel at least a little closer to Aaron. 

Not much, but every little bit counts. 

“Where’s Aaron?” Liv asks before Robert can even say hello. 

“Hi, Liv. How are you, Liv? Things going alright, Liv?” 

“Cut it out, Robert. Where’s Aaron?” 

_If I knew that, I wouldn’t be texting you_ , he thinks. But getting anyone else close to Aaron angry with him right now is not a wise move. Adam’s already stopped talking to him and Robert is too afraid of Chas to set foot in the pub. 

He needs to keep Liv onside, so he says, “I don’t know. I was hoping he’d gone up to see you,” in the most pathetic tone of voice he owns. 

It’s not difficult. Pathetic has already become his baseline and Aaron hasn’t even been gone for two flipping days. 

“Why would he have come up to see me without telling you?” she asks next, which is a damn fine question. One Robert really doesn’t want to answer. 

“ _Robert_ ,” she pushes when it becomes clear that he’s not about to comply willingly. 

“We had a row, okay?” he says, which is both an understatement and an overstatement at the same time. Because they didn’t actually _fight_ , Aaron didn’t give them the time to. But they’re also very much in a bad, bad way.

“What did you do?” 

The question is cutting, cold, without any hesitation. And frankly, Robert is offended, thank you very much. 

“What makes you think I did anything?” 

The silence is the non-vocal equivalent of the tapping of a fingernail persistently on a desk. 

“I messed up,” he mumbles eventually. 

“Do I even wanna know how?” 

“Probably not,” he concedes. “The main point is Aaron… well he left, the night before last, and either no one has heard from him or no one is _telling me_ that they’ve heard from him, both of which are pretty grim prospects from where I’m standing. And I figured if anyone would be sympathetic to my plight, it might be you because last I checked, you don’t hate my guts.” 

There’s another long pause, filled with all the things Robert is willing to beg for to get even the slightest sliver of assistance, before Liv says, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it, “He loves ya, you know.”

_I know_ , Robert thinks. The piece of paper folded in his wallet is proof of that. But with every additional minute that Aaron stays away, Robert’s certainty in that fact grows dimmer. 

“I feel the same,” he admits, silently apologizing to Aaron for not saying it to him first. 

“Then find my daft brother and win him back.” 

Her voice is strong. Determined. Almost gleeful. And Robert would hug her if she were here. Or, well, possibly he wouldn’t, because he and Liv aren’t really huggers. But he’d ruffle her hair for sure, tug on her ponytail and tell her she’s not always a pain in the arse because it turns out he was right. She doesn’t hate his guts. 

At least he’s got one person in his corner. 

~*~

**Time since Aaron left: 6 days, 12 hours**

“What are you lookin’ at?” 

Robert blinks, his eyes tired from the lack of sleep he’s been experiencing over the past week. His stomach leaden with worry, his heart aching in his chest, and his mind constantly spiraling to create a perfect storm that equals a few hours of sleep a night if he’s lucky, and only that is gotten thanks to alcohol. 

“You what?” he asks through dulled reflexes and a slow-moving brain. 

Adam glares at him, the animosity he’s been feeling towards his brother-in-law gaining momentum with every day his best mate remains missing. 

“I asked why you were lookin’ at me.” 

They’re in the portacabin right now, trying to work, but both Holey Scrap and Home James are suffering today because neither of their heads are in it. 

“I just,” Robert begins, feeling stupidly bold for the first time in days. “I wanted to ask if you’d heard from him.” 

They don’t say Aaron’s name. Ever. They don’t have to. In fact, he’d be hard pressed to find anyone in the village willing to say the simple word _Aaron_ in front of him these days. 

“You really think I’d tell you if I did?” Adam asks with all the bluster of a teddy bear in a strop. 

_So that’s a no, then_ , he thinks, because there’s one thing he’s certain of: If Adam had heard from Aaron before Robert, he’d be gloating like mad because of it. 

“Besides, I told you the morning after he left that I wasn’t gonna talk about him with you. So stuff it, Rob.” 

Robert does not, in fact, stuff it. 

“Are you telling me you’re not worried? It’s been almost a week, Adam. I mean, people don’t just drive off without so much as a change of clothes and disappear for a _whole week_ without letting _someone_ know they’re not dead.” 

Everything seizes up inside of Robert at his own words, grisly images of Aaron’s vehicle, wrecked in a ditch, flooding his thought. 

Of Aaron, bloodied and broken. 

Of Aaron, stuck in a coma without any identification. 

Of Aaron… dead. 

He couldn’t do it. Robert would not be able to _do it_. 

“Well, he does have form,” Adam replies quietly, which is the closest he’s come to opening up since this all started. 

Robert, being Robert, has no choice but to push it. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, literally jumping up from his chair and making his way over to Adam and Aaron’s desks. “Has he done this before?” 

It’s like his heart is waking up in his chest, flooded with hope and adrenaline for the first time in days. 

Adam just squints his eyes at him, though. “Piss off.” 

“Adam, please. I feel awful about what happened,” he begins even though he’s still not one hundred percent certain what did happen - what Aaron is mad about, exactly. Him or Chrissie or something in between. “But I can’t make it right until I find him.” 

“Look, mate, if Aaron don’t wanna be found, ain’t nobody gonna find him,” Adam says bitterly as he gets up from his own chair, cutting a path for the door - for the _end of this conversation_. And Robert… well, he just can’t let that happen. Not yet. 

“Adam, _please_ , I’m begging you,” he says as he grabs Adam’s arm loosely. “If there’s anything you know… anything you can tell me… _please_.” 

For a few seconds, it looks like Adam is really thinking about it. Like he might just let something important slip. But then he makes this _pfft_ sound before saying, bitterly, “Aaron don’t need any more liars in his life.” 

He shakes Robert off at that, heading back outside to smash metal and be a generally unhelpful, unpleasant person. But even in his complete unwillingness to purposely give Robert so much as a crumb of information, he did let it slip one very key thing: 

Aaron has done this before. And Aaron is a creature of habit. Which means if he can find out where he went the last time, he can find out where he is now. And that? 

Well, that’s more than he had this morning. 

~*~

**Time since Aaron left: 10 days, 20 hours**

Robert locks himself in his room for days, coming out only for food, periodic showers, and the replenishment of the alcohol that has become his best mate in recent days. 

He’s tried everything to find Aaron, called every contact, chased down every lead. He even had Clive illegally hack into Aaron’s bank account, but the only transaction was a cash withdrawal of five hundred pounds in Leeds the morning after Aaron left. A dead end, just like everything else. 

It’s like Aaron completely vanished off the face of the planet. 

So Robert drinks, dreams about the feel of Aaron’s hands on his skin, his lips pressing insistent kisses along Robert’s jaw, or the way he feels tucked up in Robert’s arms and he hates himself. 

If this is truly lost, he only has himself to blame. 

He’s looking at the sheet of paper now, crumpled from how many times he’s folded and refolded it. It used to give him hope, tracing his fingers over Aaron’s near illegible handwriting. But now it burns like acid in his stomach, creeping up the back of his throat like bile. The only way to drown it out being whiskey after whiskey after whiskey. 

“Robert, I’m coming in!” Vic calls out, knocking three times before disturbing quite a remarkable pity party. 

He hides the paper before she can see it, tucks it away in the pocket of his dressing gown before pulling it tight around his body to hide as much of his shame as possible. 

“What do you want?” he says, more belligerently than she deserves. 

“I want you to get out of my house.” 

His stomach lurches, something that is obviously evident on his face because Vic rolls her eyes and says, “Not permanently. But for a few hours at least, I want you to leave this building like a normal person.”

Robert settles back in his bed. “No ta, I’m fine here.” 

Vic sits on the edge of the bed at that, a frown of understanding stretched across her face as she places a comforting hand on Robert’s knee. 

It all makes him want to light his skin on fire. 

“I know you’re upset, but you can’t stay up here forever. He’ll come home soon, and then-”

“Then what?” he interrupts. “Then I can watch him ignore me like everyone else? I can hear him tell me he hates me and never wants to see me again?” 

Vic looks taken aback, but she still manages to zero in on Robert’s absolute worst fear. “What makes you think he hates you?” 

A burst of laughter rushes out of him. “Come on, Vic. Why do you think he left? Because of me. I drove him from his flipping home! Sure doesn’t sound like a love story to me.” 

“Well not with that attitude it’s not.” 

He stares at her for a good, long moment, tries to read the joke in her statement, but all he finds is sincerity. Which is almost funnier. Or sadder. He’s too drunk to tell the difference. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits with a shrug. “I can’t find him and I can’t stand waiting for him and I can’t bear to be apart from him and it’s just… it’s too much, Vic. It’s just too much.” 

“It will work out,” she says confidently, squeezing his knee again for emphasis. “I know it will. But in the meantime, you can’t just stop living. It doesn’t work that way.” 

He dips his head down, hiding his face while he asks, “What do I do then?” 

She stands up, clapping her hands once before saying brightly, “You take a shower, you step out that front door, and you do something with your night. But no more staying up here drinking like a saddo.” 

She grabs his two bottles of whiskey at that - one unopened and one almost gone - and exits the room, leaving the door wide open to show him just how serious she is. 

He ends up going to the pub in the end. He’s been avoiding Chas all this time, certain of the fact that he wouldn’t get a better reception from her than from Adam. But she’s the last lead he can think of, the one he’s had hiding in his back pocket the entire time because he can’t face what it means if she knows nothing. 

You can’t fail if you never try, but you can’t succeed either. So maybe this is worth the risk. 

He sneaks in the back door in the hopes of catching her on her own and is met immediately with a flying projectile of drool and fur. 

“Clyde,” he says, his muscles loosening as he sinks to his knees to allow Clyde to attack him properly. 

Shamefully, he hadn’t really thought much about Clyde in this last week and a half. It makes sense that Chas would take him in, though. Anything for her boy. And suddenly his muscles tighten again as those words pound into the base of his skull: 

Anything for her boy. 

“Someone’s happy to see you,” Chas says a few moments later as she makes her way into the back room, her arms folded over her chest and her face wary, if not outright hostile. “That’s the most excited I’ve seen him since Aaron left.” 

“Yeah, well, take a dog on enough walks and you’re suddenly their best mate.” 

“What are you doing here, Robert?” 

He looks up at her, his whole entire being pleading with her not to chuck him out. 

“If you’re looking for your job back, we hired Matty to replace you. You left us no choice, missing so many shifts.” 

“I only missed four shifts,” he says, even though what he wants to say is so much different. 

She shrugs. “You weren’t that great of a barman to begin with. Didn’t need much of an excuse.” 

Robert smiles, almost catches Chas doing the same before she locks everything down again. 

“I don’t know where he is,” she says, cutting to the core of the issue. 

He takes a deep breath. He was expecting that, right? Before he can ask the next question, though, she adds, “I haven’t heard from him either.” 

Robert is a half a breath away from curling into a ball on the floor of the back room and giving up. But then he realizes something - Chas isn’t worried. Well, maybe she _is_ worried, but if Aaron went missing for ten days without a word, a normal Chas Dingle would be losing her flipping mind. She seems calm, though. Resigned, maybe even. And that can only be a good sign. 

“He’s done this before, hasn’t he?” he asks as he gets to his feet, brushing off his knees as Clyde sits on top of his shoes. 

She nods, which is more response than he probably deserves. 

“But you don’t know where he went last time?” 

“All I know is that he came back and that he was safe. The rest… well, that’s his business.” 

She doesn’t mean it. He knows Chas, which means he knows that this must be killing her, Aaron keeping secrets like he is. It’s why he asks, “So it doesn’t bother you?” 

She snorts at him. “Of course it bothers me. But there’s nowt I can do about it right now, thanks to his lying, cheating scumbag of a boyfriend.” 

Robert flinches at the words as if they were a physical attack. 

“Everyone heard it, Robert. The whole pub heard it.” 

Aaron heard it. 

“How could you do that to him?” 

“I never cheated on him!” he shouts, startling Clyde away from him. 

Chas just narrows her eyes at him, though. 

“Didn’t say you never lied.” 

Robert has no response to that. 

“Look, Robert, I honestly have nothing against you. Not yet, anyway. Not until I hear what my son has to say. You made him happy - happier than I’ve ever seen him - and that says something to me.”

“What does it say?” he asks shakily. 

“It says maybe you’re worth it, whatever this is.” 

He’s about to thank her when she adds, “But only if Aaron agrees with me. And for that… we’re just gonna have to wait and see.” 

She heads out of the room at that, leaving Robert alone with Clyde. Alone with his thoughts. None of which are good right now because his last lead just walked out the door and Robert is still no closer to finding Aaron than he was this morning. 

Maybe it’s time to admit defeat. 

~*~

**Time since Aaron left: 17 days, 12 hours**

Robert is taking Clyde for a walk. This has become a part of his daily ritual, alongside drinking copious amounts of alcohol, pretending to care about client calls for a haulage firm, and doing his best not to jump into a quarry. 

He’s having mixed results, to say the least. 

It’s driving him mad, doing nothing, but what’s driving him madder is how everyone else has managed to get their lives back to normal without Aaron’s presence in them as if he isn’t the axis upon which everything turns. 

Okay, maybe that’s just his perspective. But it’s still bothersome, how _normal_ everything seems, all the way down to him walking a dog like he is in any way that type of person. 

“Where is your daddy?” he asks on one of their Robert-is-too-drunk-to-keep-walking breaks, his fingers scratching behind Clyde’s ears as he pants at Robert’s feet. 

“Huh? Where did your daddy go?” 

He’s talking to a dog. 

He is actually, legitimately _talking to a dog_. 

It’s enough to make him laugh. Somewhere within that laughter, though, something smacks him in the face. Metaphorically, of course. There’s no one around for his epiphany/breakdown. But there’s something in what he just said:

I’m talking to a _dog_. 

It only takes five minutes of calling around to find out where he lives. Another forty-five minutes to get a cab into Leeds because even Robert isn’t stupid enough to drink and drive. But as he stands outside the door, hand ready to knock, he wonders if this is the worst idea he’s ever had. 

He shrugs to himself. No point in turning back now. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ed asks after sixteen knocks and a minute and a half of waiting. 

“Can I come in?” Robert asks. 

“No,” Ed replies, but Robert is already pushing his way into Ed’s flat. 

It’s nothing like the Mill. There’s absolutely no life here, no color, no _tat_. And Robert would feel bad about that fact if he weren’t pretty sure that he still hates Ed for what he did to Aaron. 

Hates him. Thanks him. It’s a thin line. 

“Seriously, Robert, why are you here?” 

Robert turns to look at Ed, taking in the disheveled appearance, the dark circles under his eyes. A mirror image of Robert’s pain, staring him back in the face. 

“Aaron’s been gone for over two and a half weeks,” he says bluntly, hoping he can shock Ed into caring. 

“And you’re telling me this because? Last I knew, you were warning me off of him.” 

Yet again, Robert ignores him in order to address more pressing matters. 

“He hasn’t talked to anyone in the village, not even Adam or Chas. But we’re… I… we’re all worried. And I thought that maybe you knew of somewhere he might go.” 

Ed stares at him for an uncomfortably long time, his face entirely unreadable when he says, “Why would I help you?” 

“Because you love him?” Robert asks, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. “And because he might be in trouble. And I know you’d never let that happen.” 

Ed turns away from him at that, leaves the room entirely as awkwardness begins to coat Robert’s skin. The press of it so overbearing that he feels like he can’t breathe by the time Ed returns with a piece of paper in his hands. 

“He has some mates in Manchester,” Ed says flatly. “He went there when stuff with his dad got on top of him. Said he just wanted to be invisible for a while. Made me promise not to tell anyone where he was, not even his mum.” 

Robert’s heart is beating wildly again, thudding out of the sluggish pit it's been in the last few weeks as his eyes trail down to the paper in Ed's hand. An address, perhaps. 

An answer. 

“Tell me first what you did,” Ed says because of course things couldn’t be that easy. 

He contemplates making something up, but it’s lying that got him into trouble in the first place. So if he can’t even prove himself to Ed, there’s no chance he’ll be able to prove himself to Aaron. 

“I lied. I let him believe my wife cheated on me when it was the other way around.” 

Ed nods at him, weighing that information before handing the piece of paper to Robert. 

He should go. He should just run for the door and _go_ , but he finds himself asking, “Why are you doing this?” because he can’t help it. He needs to know. 

“Seeing him with you,” Ed replies after a few seconds of contemplative silence. “He was never that happy with me. And if anyone deserves happiness, it’s Aaron.” 

“Thank you,” Robert says, and he’s surprised by how much he means it. 

Ed smiles something sad. “Don’t feel too grateful. I still hate your guts.” 

A laugh is surprised out of Robert, another parting gift as he leaves Ed’s sad little flat behind, taking his phone out and calling a cab back to Emmerdale. 

He needs to rest up, clean up, make himself back into the man Aaron remembers because tomorrow, he’s going to Manchester. 

~*~

**Time since Aaron left: 18 days, 9 hours**

The building is unimpressive. Old brick, crumbling facade, the kind of place a student might live in. And judging by the half dozen pubs he drove by on the way here, the neighborhood fits that lifestyle as well. 

He’s been nervous the entire drive, his stomach twisted into a complicated series of knots as he gripped the wheel and the gear shift for dear life. 

He keeps telling himself he may not even be here, that the trip might be a waste, because he can’t face the possibility of the other type of disappointment. The one where Aaron says _no_. 

The pad of buzzers is falling off the wall and the door opened by them is already ajar, so it’s easy for Robert to get into the building. Walking up the six flights of stairs, though, with legs made of concrete is not so easy. 

His palms sweat as he stands in front of the door, his heart racing in his chest in a way he’s yet to grow accustomed to as his instincts tell him to run. Flight. But Robert is a fighter, and if there’s anything in this world worth fighting for, it’s Aaron. 

He knocks. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he waits. 

When the door opens, every muscle in Robert’s body freezes, Aaron’s voice groggy as he rubs sleepily at his eyes and says, “You’ve gotta stop forgettin’ your key, mate.” 

He’s wearing dark purple boxers and an old band shirt, neither of which are his. Which makes sense, given that he ran away with nothing but what was in his car. It’s disorienting, though, to see Aaron this way, in another place, in another man’s clothes. And even though it’s unlikely that the clothes belong to someone Aaron has slept with, a spike of jealousy still flushes through his bloodstream. 

“Mark?” Aaron asks as he finally stops rubbing his eyes and looks up. And now, it’s Aaron’s turn to freeze. 

“Shit,” he says eventually, the first one to break the spell. But when he goes to slam the door in Robert’s face, Robert is thankfully quick enough to stop it. 

“Wait, Aaron, please, just give me a minute,” he begs in the same tone he’s been using on Aaron’s voicemail for weeks. 

“Go away, Robert. I don’t wanna talk to you.” 

Aaron shoves on the door, Robert shoves back, and absolutely zero progress is made in either direction. He can’t help but feel like this might come to be a great metaphor for today’s interactions. 

“I need to talk to you, Aaron. You need to listen to me. Please, just listen.” 

“Oh bloody hell,” Aaron hisses out as he lets go of the door, moving out of the way as Robert’s momentum sends him spilling into the flat. 

He almost lands flat on his face which, yet again, might be a good metaphor for today. 

“Thank you,” Robert says breathlessly as he tries to regain his bearings. 

“I didn’t let you in for you, I did it for me, so I could let you talk and then kick you out for good.” 

Well that doesn’t sound promising. 

“Aaron, please,” Robert tries, but Aaron just scrunches his face up at him like Robert just did something obscene that also smelled bad. 

“Don’t _Aaron, please,_ me, Robert. You lied to me. End of.” 

Robert takes a deep breath, then puts his foot directly in his mouth. 

“Technically I lied to Vic. I just didn’t correct you when you repeated it.” 

Aaron’s face turns beet red immediately. “Explain something: How is that better?” 

“It’s not,” he concedes. “It’s just what happened. I lied to her because I wanted to come home and I didn’t want her to have any more reasons to hate me. And I never told you because I knew if you knew the truth, you’d never want to see me again.” 

“Got that right,” Aaron says in a way that feels distinctly like a knife twisting in Robert’s gut. 

“You know I thought you were like me, Robert,” Aaron adds before Robert can get a word in. “I thought, here’s someone that can understand, that gets what happened with Ed because the same thing happened to him. But all along it was just one big flipping lie.” 

“I would never do what Ed did to you,” he says forcefully even though he knows it’s not really answering Aaron’s current concern. 

“How can I ever believe that? How can I trust you?” 

“I give you my word, Aaron. I-”

“Your word means nothing to me, Robert!” Aaron shouts. “That’s the problem.”

“Aaron, don’t say that. You don’t mean it,” Robert replies, his voice so much weaker than Aaron’s, quieter, more defeated. 

“I don’t, do I?” he says lowly, like a threat. “How am I ever supposed to trust you, Robert? To trust that you won’t cheat on me? I mean, for god’s sake, you cheated on your _wife_.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t love her!” Robert shouts, the words punched from his chest like they’re the only truth he has left as fire finally begins to flood his veins. 

Fight, not flight. 

Aaron just scoffs, though. “What, and you love me or summat?” 

“Yes, you bloody idiot!” he shouts again, unable to pull his tone down. “I love you more than anything!” 

Aaron looks at him for a good long minute, his expression stitched with suspicion as he chews on his lips and contemplates what Robert just said. But when he finally responds, it’s not what Robert wanted to hear. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Why would I lie about this?” he asks as he takes a few cautious steps towards where Aaron is still rooted to the floor. 

“I don’t know. Because you want to get back into my pants?” 

Robert’s heart breaks at Aaron’s words. “Do you really think that’s all I care about? That that’s all I want from you?” 

He shrugs again, a maddening reaction when Robert is trying to convince him that he loves him. 

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Robert. And I can’t do this with you right now. You need to leave.” 

“No,” he says adamantly, shaking his head hard to emphasize the point. “I’m not leaving you, not unless you promise to come home.” 

“You don’t get to dictate that,” Aaron replies defensively, and it’s never been like this with them. Robert saying something and Aaron just _not bloody getting it_. 

“I’m not trying to dictate anything. I just… I miss you, Aaron. I love you and I miss you and I want you to come home.” 

“And I wanted you to be the one,” he replies, the response shocking even himself. “But… but we can’t always get what we want. I trusted you, which after Ed was hard, harder than you can ever imagine, but I did. I let you in and you just stomped all over that, Robert. I can’t forget that. There’s no way I can forget that.”

Robert nods, then pulls his wallet out, hoping that this will work given that it’s his last possible hope. 

“I found this on the floor of the pub, the night you left,” he says, holding out the sheet of paper that’s practically worn through from the number of times Robert has looked over it, held it, cried over it. 

Aaron looks scared for a second before his expression hardens back to the unreachable place of before. 

“It says you love me.” 

“Don’t,” Aaron warns. 

“It says you want to live with me.” 

“I mean it, Robert. _Don’t_.” 

“You love me, Aaron. You can pretend you don’t all you want but this,” he waves the paper in the air like a white flag, “this is proof that you do.”

“I don’t,” he tries, shaking his head for effect. 

“You _do_.”

“No, Robert, I _don’t_.” 

“Aaron please,” Robert says as he finally reaches out like he’s been wanting to since he arrived, pulling Aaron into him, pressing their foreheads together and just breathing him in. 

“Aaron, you love me and this is _ridiculous_.” 

Aaron gives in for a moment or two, closing his eyes and sighing at the contact, his arms reaching up to press lightly into Robert’s chest. But his voice is hardened when he says, “The only thing ridiculous is how long I’ve let you stay here. You need to leave. Now.” 

He shoves Robert away from him then, takes a few steps back himself to put as much distance as possible between them. And Robert’s heart breaks for the hundredth time in the last few weeks. 

“No,” Robert replies, but he can already feel his resolve crumbling in the face of Aaron’s opposition. 

Aaron takes a step forward and puffs out his chest. “Either you leave now, or I’ll make you leave.” 

The image flashes across his mind, of Aaron, strong-arming him out of the flat, throwing him into the hallway. Tears in their eyes, tears in their hearts, and he just can’t handle it. 

He can’t do this. Not here. Not now. In a strange city, in a strange flat, with a strange version of Aaron wearing someone else’s clothes, he just can’t _do it_. 

So he crumbles up the paper, takes Aaron’s hand and wraps it in his fist because it never belonged to Robert in the first place. He was never meant to see it. Maybe the same way he was never meant to have Aaron. 

After all, he knew it from the beginning. He could never, _ever_ deserve someone like him. So who is he kidding now? 

“I love you, Aaron,” he says before leaning forward and kissing Aaron on the cheek, surprised that Aaron allows him to do something so bold. 

“Please believe that. Whatever else you think, I need you to believe… that.” 

And then he leaves, just how Aaron wants him to, refusing to take even another backwards glance because he can’t bear to look at him for one second more. To look at him and know that he’ll likely never have him again. 

It’s not giving up. He refuses to believe that he is giving up. It’s just a strategic retreat, right? He’ll go home, regroup, and try again once Aaron is back on familiar soil. _If_ Aaron is ever back on familiar soil. 

It’s _not_ giving up. But then why does it feel so much like the end? 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a short scene of bashing.

It’s half three in the morning when Aaron finally gets home from Manchester. Which means that apart from his headlights, the village is pitch black, just how he wanted it.

It’s only been a few days since he saw Robert. The visit had rattled Aaron, there’s no denying that, but it did help him realize one thing: He couldn’t hide forever. Not when Robert could show up at any time. So unless one of them outright leaves the village, they’re gonna have to be around each other eventually. 

Aaron reckons he’ll cope. 

He’s assaulted by memories once he steps inside his flat. Robert didn’t live with him, but he might as well have for all his tat lying about. Little stuff, like his watch on the coffee table or his extra pair of boots sitting by the front door, and big things, like the black hole left in the wake of his absence. 

The stack of movies they’d yet to watch.

The blanket they’d wrestle over when they were too tired for much else. 

The gaping, bloodied hole left in Aaron’s chest where something a lot like love used to reside. 

He almost turns around and leaves again, packs a bag and finds somewhere more permanent. But this is his home. It was his before Ed and it’s still his after Robert, so he’ll be damned if he lets some jumped up supermodel push him out of his own home. 

The core problem is that the last time he was here, him and Robert were together. The whole _village_ is gonna be full of memories of The Last Time They Did X. Which just means that Aaron’s gonna be ripping off a lot of plasters in the coming days, replacing those memories with new ones where he’s single again and…

Fuck, he’s single again. 

He doesn’t like the sound of that. He did a rubbish job of it the last time he gave it a go. The only reason he even got through it at all without passing out drunk in an alleyway was because of Robert. Only how is he supposed to get over Robert without Robert there to help him? 

He heads up to the shower immediately, looking for a place to hide like he always does. 

_Coward_ , the voice in his head laughs. Gordon’s voice, always there but louder when Aaron is being a screw up. Which he guesses this qualifies, given how royally messed up his life has become in the last six months. 

He still throws two fingers up over his shoulder, aiming them at a monster that’s been dead for a year and a half, because why not? It’s never a bad time to say _fuck you_ to his dead, pedophilic father. 

He lets the water do its work, turning the temperature just shy of scalding, which he figures is a step in the right direction. 

When he showered at Mark’s - which wasn’t often - it normally involved him practically burning his skin off as punishment for some imagined crime he committed without even knowing it. 

Now, though, he just wants to relax for ten minutes, find some peace without Robert hanging over his head, smiling at him and making his skin tingle. Which is why it makes sense that he accidentally grabs the wrong flipping shower gel. 

His eyes are closed, that’s the only reason he did it. But once the gel has been squeezed onto his hand, the strong musk filling up the shower stall, he feels almost compelled to use it. 

It would be a waste if he didn’t, right? Robert spent a lot of time explaining to him how expensive his shower gel was after the one time Aaron knocked it over and cracked the bottle. So it would just be flat out rude to wash it down the drain. 

It feels soft on his skin, softer than his own, and a memory rushes back to him at the sensation. 

_“Yours doesn’t even have a proper scent!” Robert had shouted, playfulness in his tone. “It just says SPORT on it. What does that even mean? That athletes should wear it to cover up their horrendous body odour? That you smell like gym equipment?”_

Robert had buried his face in Aaron’s neck while they’d had sex that night, moaning about how good Aaron smelled. But Aaron had been the bigger man and refused to bring the argument up again, mostly because he was buried deep inside Robert at the time and the only thing he could think of was _heat_. 

Now, though, the scent overwhelms him, which is the exact _opposite_ of what he needed. So he showers quickly, drapes a towel around his waist, and heads into his bedroom. 

It’s just more of the same out here. More reminders, more Robert, more _pain_. Which is why he throws on some clothes and immediately finds a box in storage that should fit all of Robert’s belongings. 

If you’re going to empty your house of every trace of your ex-boyfriend, what better time to do it than quarter past four in the morning on a Tuesday? 

He doesn’t let himself get emotional, doesn’t even allow one single tear to fall as he drags the box around the house and dumps item after item into it, making a mess of the whole procedure but not even caring because the quicker he gets this done, the quicker it can be _done_. 

He places the box next to the door once he finishes, stares down at all things Robert. And he allows himself just one moment of weakness to reach down and run his fingers over the blue zip up jumper flung haphazardly across the top of Robert’s things. 

It reminds him of their picnic, their stupid fake anniversary and Robert’s body pressing him down into the blanket, the uneven mounds of dirt beneath him digging into his back. But that’s just another memory to him now, another day he’ll do his best to forget in the name of moving on, which is exactly what he’s gonna do. 

Starting right now, he’s moving on. 

~*~

Aaron gets no sleep that night, not one single second. Which is why his feet are dragging as he makes his way up to Keepers, Robert’s box in hand. 

He thought about waiting to bring Robert’s stuff back, give himself some time to settle with the idea or some psychological claptrap like that. But he promised himself plasters, he promised himself _moving on_. So even though he’s so exhausted he feels like falling over, and even though his heart is pounding so hard his whole body aches, he still sets the box down, reaches out and knocks. 

“Mate!” Adam exclaims as soon as he opens the door, reaching out to grab Aaron round the back of the neck so he can pull him into his arms. “It’s good to see you!” 

“You too,” Aaron forces out through the tightness in his throat caused by the way Adam is hugging the stuffing out of him and nothing else. 

“Where’ve you been, eh?” Adam asks once he lets Aaron go. 

Aaron shrugs and looks down what’s probably construed as shyly. “Oh, y’know, around.” 

Adam barks out a laugh at that. “Good ole Aaron, master of details as per usual.” 

“Yeah, Ad, look,” he starts again, looking Adam dead in the eye so he knows how serious this is. “Could you… is Robert in?” 

Adam’s face falls in pity, which is in no way, shape, or form what Aaron wants from him right now. 

“Yeah. Want me to get him?” 

Aaron nods. “Could ya? I’ve got,” he kicks the box at his feet, “business.” 

If it’s at all possible, Adam’s face falls even more when he sees the box of stuff at Aaron’s feet. “Mate-”

“Just, could you get him,” he interrupts. “Please?” 

Adam nods. “I take it you don’t wanna come in?” 

The way Aaron slumps his shoulders when he shakes his head tells Adam everything he needs to know. 

“Wait here then, yeah? I’ll get ‘im.” 

“Thanks, Ad.” 

“Course,” Adam replies with a smile that doesn’t look particularly real, but Aaron will take it right now as long as it gets him a result. 

It takes a few minutes for Adam to collect Robert, and in that time, Aaron almost bolts for home five times. It would be so easy to do a runner, leave the box on the steps and bail. But he’s an adult, most of the time, and he’s gonna need to learn to face Robert head on eventually. So what better time than now? 

“Aaron,” Robert says breathlessly eventually, causing Aaron’s head to snap up from where he was looking down at his feet and counting to ten over and over and over again. 

“You’re back.” 

Aaron nods, but that’s all he can really do right now due to the way Robert’s appearance seems to freeze him up inside. 

He’s always liked how Robert looks in pyjamas, his hair flat from sleep. He’s always looked comfortable, making Aaron just want to curl up into him like a warm blanket. But right now, he looks awful. 

Aaron’s had bags under his eyes for weeks, but if anything, Robert’s look worse. His hair is still flat like it usually is in the morning, but it looks greasier, like he hasn’t washed it properly in a while. And his skin - it’s sallow, pale, forcing his freckles to stand out in higher contrast. 

Aaron has to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to stop him from reaching out to brush the frown off Robert’s face. 

“I didn’t come for a chat,” he says, his voice rougher than normal as he kicks the box again. “I just came to bring back your stuff.” 

“Aaron,” Robert says in that tone of voice that always makes Aaron want to give in and do whatever Robert wants, just to make the pain go away. 

“I said I didn’t come for a chat, alright? I just wanted to give you your things and now I have done. So…”

Aaron trails off, incapable of thinking of what to say next. But when he turns around to leave, Robert says something that stops him in his tracks. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He almost just leaves anyway, but for some reason he can’t help but turn around. His gaze assessing, studying Robert before he says, “You know you never said that.”

“You what?” Robert asks, his face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Sorry. In all your messages, when you came to see me, in everything, you never once said that you were sorry.” 

The confusion bleeds into something sadder, something broken, and Aaron figures he should probably just be grateful that Robert isn’t trying to deny it, trying to tell Aaron he heard wrong. 

“It should’ve been the first thing I said,” he says quietly, guilt written plainly across every inch of his body. 

“Yeah, well,” Aaron says, turning to walk away again only to be stopped once more by the plea in Robert’s voice. 

“You know, I never meant to hurt you.” 

Aaron nods, stuffs his hands in his pockets and forces ice water through his veins. “It was gonna hurt no matter when it came out, Robert. I guess… I guess it just would’ve been nice to hear it from you first.” 

Robert nods, absorbing the hit but maintaining eye contact, which is more than Aaron can handle right now. 

“Bye, Robert,” he says as he takes one last glance at the box of Robert’s belongings. 

Robert doesn’t say anything in response. This time, he just lets Aaron go. And Aaron can’t tell if that’s better or worse. 

~*~

Aaron has spent the last four days doing his best to avoid Robert. Which is hard, given the fact that they work in the same place. It’s why he’s on his fifteenth job out since he came back, working himself ragged and taking all the crap jobs so he doesn't have to set foot in the portacabin. 

“Oi, get over here!” Adam calls out just as Aaron is about to hop back in the truck he and Adam spent the last two hours unloading. 

“I got a job on, Ad. I don’t have time.” 

It’s not true. There’s no job. Aaron knows that. Adam knows that. But he was hoping Adam might let him slide this once so he can keep up his streak of Days without Wanting to Cave and Beg Robert to Come Back to Him. 

No such luck. 

“I think you have time for a brew,” Adam says as he wraps one arm strongly over Aaron’s shoulders and begins leading him toward the portacabin. 

“Adam, I really don’t want-”

“Relax,” Adam says as he pulls Aaron closer. “He’s in York today working on a deal. We’ve got the place all to ourselves. Which I woulda told yas had ya not been runnin’ out on me every chance ya got.” 

Aaron takes a deep breath, letting the peace settle into his bones. 

“So, brew then?” Adam asks as they reach the stairs. 

Aaron nods. “Brew sounds good.” 

The first five minutes are dead silent apart from the sound of Adam making their brews. And this, right here, is something that Aaron has always appreciated about his best mate. He may push a little, from time to time, if he thinks it’s important, but for the most part he just let’s Aaron _be_. 

He’s probably the only person in his life that does that. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Adam finally asks as he sets Aaron’s mug in front of where he’s sitting at the desk, taking the chair opposite for himself. 

“You what?” 

Adam rolls his eyes. “It’s your first Friday night since ya got back. Figured we should do summat to celebrate.” 

“I was only gone a couple weeks, Ad,” Aaron replies as he hides his face behind his mug. 

“C’mon, mate,” he whines. “I haven’t seen ya for more than five minutes since ya got back.” 

“I’m catching up on work. You should be happy.” 

“I am. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice not to be runnin’ this place alone anymore. But I missed ya, bro.”

He smiles, the giant, childish grin that usually makes Aaron begrudgingly accept whatever he’s offering. 

“What did you have in mind?” he asks with a groan. 

“Nothing much. Just… you and me… in town… on the pull.” 

The last bit is mumbled into a sip of tea that scalds Adam’s mouth, judging by the way he hisses after he takes it. Which is exactly what he deserves, as far as Aaron figures. 

“You’re married and I’m not interested,” he says flatly so there’s no doubt in Adam’s mind how little he likes the idea. 

“C’mon, mate,” he begs again. “It’s what helped get ya over Ed, amirite? Why wouldn’t it help again?” 

_Because Robert isn’t Ed_ , the thought flies to him immediately. Because getting over Robert is gonna take a lot more than shagging a bunch of randoms. But he can’t tell Adam that because if he tells Adam that, Adam’s gonna think he’s still hung up on Robert. Which, even if he is (he’s not), he doesn’t want Adam to know that (cause he’s not). 

“I just don’t feel up for it,” he says quietly, hoping that if he looks pathetic enough, Adam will leave him alone. 

He doesn’t. 

“Well, too bad, cause this was Vic’s idea and if ya say no, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.” 

“Why should I care about that?” 

“Because you’re my best mate and ya don’t want me to live in misery?” 

It’s not a great answer, but it’s an answer. 

“C’mon, just give it a go. If ya hate it, we’ll come right back. Deal?” 

Aaron waits a long minute to respond, even though they both know what his answer will be. He still makes Adam sweat a little before he says, “Fine,” and leaves it at that. 

It’s not long into their night out when Aaron starts seriously regretting saying yes. They’re at Bar West, the most comfortable place for Aaron outside of the pub, but still, everything just feels wrong. 

It’s like everything has shifted just slightly to the left, not enough so that anyone else will notice but enough for it to bother him. Which is why he’s already on his third pint in an hour - because he just wants to forget everything, including himself. 

_It’s cause you’re a failure, son,_ Gordon’s voice taunts him as he sits at the bar, waiting for Adam to come back from the loo. _Everything you touch turns to ash and dust._

He’s not wrong. He’s still a piece of human garbage that Aaron is well shot of, but this time, he’s not wrong. He is a failure, and nothing’s gonna change that. 

“Y’alright there, mate?” someone asks a few moments later as he’s sitting there with his eyes shut like a complete weirdo. 

The words echo through his mind, coming through in a different voice this time, like two people saying the same thing at the same time. 

“You what?” he asks because that’s what came next, isn’t it? And Aaron is just playing his part. 

“I said are you alright?” 

Aaron laughs, the sound bubbling out of his chest as he says, “Just peachy.” because it was ridiculous the first time, and it’s still ridiculous today. 

“What’s your name?” the bloke asks, the one Aaron hasn’t even bothered to look at because it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, really. 

“Robert,” he says, the word warm in his mouth, soft coming off his lips as a tear trails down his cheek unnoticed. 

“Well, Robert, you wanna get outta here?” the bloke asks, breaking script, but that’s okay, Aaron isn’t really here anyway. He’s back in the memory, trapped in the night they met, when Robert was nobody, nothing, just like Aaron. 

Aaron nods, but he’s not nodding at Random Bloke, he’s nodding at Robert. At the feel of Robert’s hands on his skin, the taste of Robert’s mouth. At Robert’s smile, Robert’s eyes, the constellations of freckles on Robert’s face. 

He just keeps nodding as he feels himself being guided to his feet, lead to the door. Nodding, nodding, _nodding_ as his body fills with a need that’ll never be satisfied again. 

The fresh air jars him awake, startles him into the realization of what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with. And for the first time, his eyes focus on the bloke that’s trying to cop off with him. 

He looks nothing like Robert. 

“Look, mate, I’m real sorry but I’m gonna have to pass,” Aaron says as contritely as possible. 

The guy looks at him and blinks a few heavy times, clearly drunk and now upset. 

“What are you, some kinda tease?” he asks, shoving Aaron so hard he’d have landed on his arse if not for the wall behind him. 

“No, I just,” he starts, the words _you’re not who I want_ racing through his head before he finishes with, “I changed my mind.” 

“Well, I didn’t,” the bloke says, grabbing Aaron’s arm and attempting to drag him down the street. But Aaron isn’t that drunk, and he’s never one to back down from a fight, so he yanks his arm away from the guy and smashes his fist into his face for good measure. 

“You little,” the bloke starts to say, but before he finishes, his fist is slamming right back into Aaron’s face, the pain a welcome distraction from whatever is going on tonight. 

He could dodge the next punch, and the one after that, and the one after that easily. It would take next to nothing to subdue this bloke. But for some reason, Aaron just stands there and takes it, feeling every hit ricochet through his bones until Adam is racing to the scene to separate them. 

“What the hell is going on here?!” he shouts as he shoves the guy, pushing him away from Aaron. 

The guy just spits on the ground and bites out the words, “Cock tease,” before stalking off into the night. 

“Aaron, what happened to you?” Adam asks pitifully as he checks Aaron’s wounds. 

“M’fine, Ad. Just wanna go home.” 

“But-”

“I said I just wanna go home!” 

His voice is harsh, meaner than he’ll usually ever get with Adam. But he’s not having this conversation. Not here, not now, not _ever_. So he walks away from Adam without another word spoken, takes his phone out to call a taxi, and settles in for a good half hour of guilt as Adam stares at him like a flipping lost puppy. 

Of course it doesn't go that way. 

“What happened back there?” Adam asks as he joins Aaron where he’s sitting in front of the bar, checking for blood. 

For a moment, he imagines a world wherein he doesn’t answer Adam, and an equally fictitious world where Adam then lets things drop. But this is clearly one of those times where Adam actually _cares_ , and so Aaron says, “He tried it on with me and I didn’t want him to so I decked him. Funnily enough, punching someone in the face doesn’t immediately make them disappear.” 

“ _Aaron_ , mate, we need to call the police,” Adam replies as he fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket. Aaron just puts a hand on his arm to stop him, though. 

“I don’t wanna call the police, Ad, I just wanna go home. Please, can I just go home?” 

Aaron’s inherent patheticness seems to do the trick this time because Adam nods at him, letting his phone lie and settling further against the brick behind them. 

A few minutes later, though, he starts things up again, but this time he’s got a slightly different tactic. 

“Maybe you should give him another chance.” 

The words are so quiet, Aaron should be able to see exactly what Adam means. But his brain is still so mashed that he says, “The bloke that punched me?” 

“No, not him,” Adam says, clearly annoyed. “Robert. Maybe ya should… I don’t know… try again.” 

Aaron looks at Adam hard for a minute, tries to find the joke in what he’s saying. But it’s all infuriating sincerity as he flicks his eyes between his lap and Aaron’s face, unable to keep them resting in one place for long. 

“Why the hell would I want to do that?” Aaron asks eventually. 

Adam shrugs. “I don’t know, cause you were happy with him?” 

It’s clearly a question, but it’s also clearly _not_. 

“Yeah, well, that’s not enough,” he says, because it’s not. You need more than just blind happiness to make a relationship work. You need _trust_ , more than anything. And Robert’s damaged that irreparably. 

“What are you afraid of?” Adam asks next, his voice just as quiet as it was before. 

And Aaron wants to be strong here, wants his voice to be _strong_ when he says, “I’m not afraid of anything,” but for some reason the words just come out weak and flat. 

“Sure about that?” Adam asks, and sometimes, he really hates his best mate. 

They don’t talk anymore that night, not while they wait for the taxi, and not on the ride home. Which means Aaron is keyed up by the time he finally gets to his flat. 

He runs his fingers through Clyde’s fur and settles on the idea of another sleepless night until he sees something draped over the arm of the sofa. His heart beating wildly in the way only one person has ever made it do as he picks the object up, clutches it in his arms and curls up on the sofa. 

The fabric of the jumper is soft, and it still smells like him, like _Robert_. Which is probably the only reason why he’s able to fall asleep almost immediately, despite how wound up he is, despite how much pain he’s in. Musk and cologne and Robert overwhelming his senses as he drifts off into blackness. 

~*~

It’s been nearly a week and he hasn’t seen Robert once since that morning at Keepers. Which is why every single muscle in his body seizes up when he catches sight of Robert walking down the road in his direction. 

Clyde barks, strains at his lead like he wants to get to Robert, and before Aaron realizes what he’s doing, he’s letting Clyde go. 

Robert falls to his knees at the same moment Clyde reaches him, absorbing the way Clyde jumps at him, placing one hand behind his back to keep himself upright. And something warm flushes through Aaron’s veins at the sight. 

Clyde never once reacted that way to Ed. 

Aaron can relate. 

He’s been avoiding Robert, but judging by the way Robert won’t even look up at him once he’s close enough clues Aaron in to the fact that Robert’s probably been avoiding him, too. And he knows it makes him a hypocrite, but the idea of Robert purposefully being everywhere Aaron is not makes his heart ache. 

“Y’alright?” Aaron asks, his fingers dug into his palms again to keep himself from touching. 

“Yeah. Sorry I interrupted your walk like this. I think he’s just trying to thank me for all the times I took him out while you were gone.” 

Clyde makes another lunge at Robert, almost sending him toppling onto his arse, and the level of sheer fondness that Aaron feels is almost crippling. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Robert looks up at him finally, just for a split second. But in that second, Aaron can read every single thing he’s feeling. 

Regret. Guilt. Sorrow. Longing. A right perfect match to Aaron’s own Greatest Hits. 

“It was the least I could do, seeing as how I drove you from your home.” 

“Come on, Robert. Self-deprecation never suited you.”

The words surprise Aaron possibly more than they surprise Robert, forced from his mouth as they were. It doesn’t make them any less true, though, even if he feels like a prat for saying them. 

“You’re right,” Robert agrees as he gets to his feet, dusting off the knees of the dark jeans he tends to favour. “I should let you-”

He freezes at that, finally in a position as he is to see the bruises on Aaron’s face. And to say that Robert looks horrified would be a massive understatement. 

“ _Aaron_ , what's happened?” 

He reaches out at that like he can’t help himself, cups Aaron’s face in his hands and twists it toward the sun so he can get a better look. And Aaron knows that the bruises have healed some in the last few days, but he also knows that the left side of his face still looks a right mess. 

“I’m fine,” he hisses, taking a step back and watching Robert’s hands fall back to his sides. “Just got in a little scrap, that’s all.” 

“Why did you… are you trying to…” Robert stammers, doing his best apparently to ask a hard question in a way that’ll be easy for Aaron. He knows what he’s getting at, though. He wants to know if this is another way for Aaron to self harm. And so he cuts him off at the pass before he can go any further. 

“It was nothing, really. Just some bloke that got a little handsy the other night. There’s nothing to worry about.” 

“Handsy?” Robert asks, his voice even more horrified, if that’s possible. “He didn’t… you weren’t…”

“Would you stop fretting, Robert?” he snaps. “Everything was fine. Adam was there to make sure things didn’t go too far and all I got were a coupla bruises out of the deal. It’s no bother.”

“Aaron, you’re telling me that someone tried to sexually assault you and then beat you up, and it’s _no bother_? Do you really expect me to believe that?” 

This is not the conversation Aaron wants to be having right now. Not the conversation he wants to be having _ever_. So he finds the knife he’s looking for and twists it in. 

“None of this is any of your concern, _that’s_ what I’m trying to tell you. You’re not anything to me anymore, Robert, so drop it.” 

Robert sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, puts his hands on his hips and nods a few tight times before saying, “Just because we’re not together anymore, that doesn’t mean I can just stop caring about you.” 

“Yeah, well, you should do. I have.” 

It’s a lie. It’s a big, fat, flipping lie. But the way Robert reacts to it like Aaron just punched him in the face proves that Robert believes it. 

“You know you make out like you’re different,” he continues because he can’t help but hammer the point home. “Like you’re so much better than Ed, but really you’re the same. You hurt me once and you’ll just hurt me again.” 

Robert takes the change of topic in stride, doubling down his indignation when he says, “I am nothing like Ed.” 

“Aren’t you?” 

Robert takes one step forward, matched exactly by Aaron’s one step back. 

“I would never hurt you like that, Aaron.” 

He sounds defeated, but for some reason, that only makes Aaron angrier. 

“Yeah, well, there are lots of ways to hurt people, Robert.” 

“But what I did… it had _nothing_ to do with you. It was between me and my wife.”

Aaron scoffs. “Really? Nothing to do with me?” 

The way Robert says, “Yes,” sounds like the voice of someone who knows they’re about to walk into a trap. 

Aaron takes a step closer this time if only to give them a bit more privacy. 

“What about that time we slept together with no protection? Remember what you said to me?”

Robert looks uncomfortable at that, squirming slightly where he stands. 

“You said you’d only been with Chrissie since you last got tested and that you always used protection with her. Was that true?” 

It’s a question Aaron has wanted the answer to from the moment he got in his car and sped off, but it’s also one he’s been afraid of for equally as long. 

“I was safe with all of them,” Robert mumbles and Aaron’s heart…

Well, it breaks that much more, doesn’t it? 

“All of them?” he asks incredulously. “How many were there? You know what, never mind. I don’t wanna know.”

“I’m not proud of who I was, Aaron,” Robert says, reaching out to grab Aaron’s hand and immediately releasing it when Aaron’s eyes slip down to his grip. 

“Was?” Aaron asks. 

“Yes, _was_. As in _in the past_. We all have pasts we’re not proud of.” 

His eyes go wide as soon as the words are out of his mouth. 

“Shit, Aaron, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so _sorry_.” 

Aaron bites the corner of his lip, stares Robert down for a good half minute before saying, as clearly as he can, “I don’t want your sorries,” grabbing Clyde’s lead and walking away. 

~*~

“Same again, please, Charity,” Aaron asks a few nights later, his elbow pressed into the bar so he can hold his head up. 

“I think you’ve had enough, love,” his mum cuts in like she’s the alcohol police as she physically stops Charity from filling up another pint glass for him. 

He sits up straight and stares her down. “Last I checked, I was over eighteen and this was a pub. Means I can drink as much beer as I want.” 

He should’ve known it wouldn’t work on her. 

“Back room. Now,” she says in the voice that allows for zero resistance. And just like he’s a pathetic teenager again, he follows his mummy into the back room to be scolded. 

At least Charity resists making a comment about the whole thing. Small mercies. 

Instead of bawling him out like he’s expecting, the first thing his mum does is hug him. The next thing she does is run her fingers through his hair like she used to do when she put him to bed. And the _next_ thing she does is whisper, “My poor baby,” into his ear. 

He thinks he'd rather have the lecture. 

“Is this about Robert?” she asks once she lets him go. 

“Is what about Robert?” he fires back even though the way he’s swaying on the spot kinda proves her point. 

“You can’t go down this road again, love. You’d finally gotten back on your feet.” 

He almost laughs at her comment, given how little she actually helped in the “getting him back on his feet” department. He’s never been good at hurting her, though, so he just feigns innocence and continues to sway drunkenly like some dodgy punter. 

“Do you still love him?” she asks, biting her lip when she finishes like she knows full well it was the wrong thing to say. 

“Who said I ever loved him in the first place?” 

She tips her head and raises one eyebrow at him. 

“It’s okay if you still love him, sweetheart. He made you happy, happier than I ever saw you. It’s completely natural to want to hold onto that with both hands.” 

Aaron crosses his arms in defiance of… _all that_. 

“Weren’t you the one threatening to murder Ed when he and I broke up?” 

“Yeah, but Robert isn’t Ed, is he?” 

_How do you know that?_ he wants to ask. Aaron knows that, hell Robert and Ed probably even know that, but there’s no way his mum could know that. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he says before turning towards the door. 

He freezes midstep, though, when his mum practically begs, “Then will you at least have it with someone else?” 

He looks over his shoulder, still pointed in the direction of the door and halfway towards it. 

“I’m worried about you, love. I _know_ you. I know how you get. And Robert… he helped you before. Which means you’re gonna need someone else this time.” 

_I don’t need anyone else_ , he thinks. _I don’t need anyone at all_ , as Gordon’s voice jams its way into his thought just to tell him what a pathetic failure he is. 

He shakes it off, though, says, “I’ll be fine,” even though he’s pretty sure he won’t, based on recent experience. But he hopes it’s enough for her as he completes the walk to the door and heads home. 

~*~

Aaron is doing his best to get into the moment. There’s concrete behind his back, an overly excited bloke at his front, and a hand down his pants, but all he can manage to muster up is guilt. 

He feels like he’s cheating. It’s completely unfair. And every time he tries to think about anything _but_ Robert, he just makes himself think about Robert that much more. 

It wasn’t this hard with Ed. With Ed, he was angry, sure, and hurt, but the feeling that he was still attached in some way just was never there like someone had come along and cut any cord that stretched between Ed’s heart and his own. 

He doesn’t have that with Robert. Which is why he’s almost glad when the sound of bins tipping over startles both him and his partner back to their surroundings. 

“Who’s there?” Aaron calls out even though he knows it’s probably just a rat. 

He looks back at his partner - Jeff? Jerry? Jason? - and sees terror in his eyes. 

“My wife can’t find out about this,” he says and really, is there anyone on this godforsaken earth that isn’t a bloody liar? 

Aaron shoves him away, does his jeans back up and watches him scurry down the alleyway in the opposite direction of the sound. But when Aaron looks back towards the mysteriously moving garbage bins, he sees a human-shaped shadow make a run for the alley’s entrance. 

“Stop!” Aaron shouts, giving chase even though he’s not sure he wants to meet his resident neighbourhood pervert. He’s fast, though, always has been, which means he catches up with the weirdo before he’s even halfway out of the alley. 

It’s Robert. Aaron wishes he could even pretend to be shocked. 

“You following me now?” he asks as he watches Robert shift like a naughty schoolboy waiting to speak to the headmaster. 

“Yes,” he says with a jut of his chin that almost overshadows the doubt in his eyes. 

“Honesty, huh? Funny that,” Aaron replies because he’s tired. All he wanted to do was come out, drink a little, and get off. He hasn’t had any sort of sex since Robert and it’s making things worse, like the longer he carries on this way the more impossible it becomes to shag anyone else. 

“I’m worried about you, Aaron,” Robert says all _sincerely_ , like that’s what Aaron wants right now. 

“Yeah, well, don’t be,” he says as he makes a move toward the nearest exit. “I’m not your problem, remember?”

“You were never my problem!” he calls out from behind Aaron. “I love you!”

Aaron stops in his tracks, debates his next move for a few seconds before turning around and making a b-line for where Robert is still standing. 

“If you really loved me, you’d leave me the hell alone,” he grits out before shoving Robert once, hard, so that his back hits the wall. 

“I can’t do that,” he says quietly, flipping apologetically. 

“Why? Because the great Robert Sugden only does what the great Robert Sugden wants, to hell with everyone else?”

He shoves Robert again, follows into his space so that they’re closer than they’ve been in weeks. 

“I love you, Aaron.”

He fists his hands in Robert’s stupid poncy blazer this time, pulling him forward before slamming him back again as he hisses, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care what you say?” 

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I’m sorry?” 

There’s fire in Robert’s eyes now, something so familiar, so magnetic that Aaron can’t help but be pulled into it, so close to Robert’s body that they’re almost touching in all the wrong ways. 

“I don’t care that you’re sorry,” he says, his voice little more than a growl now as he rises slightly onto his toes so he can get closer to Robert’s face. “It doesn’t change what you did, what you _are_.” 

“And what am I, Aaron? Tell me that,” Robert replies, and Aaron can feel Robert’s hands sliding over his hips as he speaks, his fingers digging in in a way that makes Aaron have to bite back a groan. 

“You’re a liar,” he says, slipping his knee between Robert’s legs and punctuating his words with a sharp roll of his hips. 

“You’re a cheat,” he adds, rolling his hips again. 

“And you’re nothing to me.” 

Robert leans his head forward at that, his lips mere inches from Aaron’s as he whispers, “Now who’s the liar?” 

Aaron kisses him. There’s really no other option right now but to pull Robert in closer to him and press their lips together. And like it’s literally being poured into his veins, heat floods Aaron’s body immediately, reaching every corner as he licks along Robert’s bottom lip, begging for entry. 

He gets lost in it like he’s off his face on drugs, his pulse pounding mercilessly as Robert licks into his mouth and grips his hips even harder than before. And all he wants in the entire world is to just succumb to this feeling, have Robert here, now, for the whole world to see if they wanted to because all that matters in this instance is the way it feels to have Robert in his arms once again. 

Cold water floods his system eventually, though, all the hurt and mistrust, all the _fear_ rushing back over him as he pushes off Robert’s body and takes a few shaky steps away. 

“Aaron, please,” Robert begs, reaching out again only for Aaron to smack his hands away. 

“ _No_!” he snaps. “We’re not doing this. We’re done, Robert.”

“You can’t say that. How can you say that? Doesn’t this prove-”

“All it proves is that you need to stay as far away from me as possible,” he says as his eyes burn with tears he doesn’t want to fall, not in front of Robert. “Just go, Robert. Just go and never come back.” 

He runs at that, his feet pounding on the pavement. And for once, he doesn’t look back. 

~*~

Two days later there’s a knock on his door. Which is weird because since he got back to the village, no one has come to visit him at his flat. Everyone has just waited for him to come to them. 

He assumes it’s Robert, of course, because that’s the most likely bet. Which is why he’s surprised to open the door and see Liv standing there with a giant bag slung over her shoulder. 

He won’t admit that he’s disappointed. 

“Hiya!” Liv says brightly. “I’ve come to spend some time with you, if that’s alright. It is alright, isn’t it?” 

Aaron’s brain isn’t really working right now, so all he can manage is a nod. 

Liv walks past him into the living room, dropping her bag beside the sofa and whistling loudly before saying, “This place is a pigsty!” 

It is. It really is. Aaron hasn’t cleaned much of anything since Manchester, mostly because there’s been no reason to. When he was with Robert, he used to clean his house daily because he knew Robert couldn’t stand things being “untidy.” But once all that ended, there was no more reason to leash his inner pig. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he says once he finds his voice again, “cause I am. But… couldn’t you have maybe called? Sent a text? Given me some warning about this?” 

“Why, so you could hide the evidence of your mental breakdown?” 

“Rude,” he says as he pinches his face in anger? Displeasure? He’s not really sure. 

She plops on the sofa with her legs tucked under her body. “I knew if I asked you, that you’d just fob me off, and I wanted to come.” 

“Why?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Because the last few times we’ve talked, you’ve sounded dead miserable and I figured you could use some company.” 

That’s not the real reason, but he lets it slide in favor of a peaceful day. 

He takes the day off from the yard and spends it playing video games with Liv, eating take away and slobbing out. Basically, it’s a normal day for them. Until they’re sitting at the dinner table and Liv uses that moment to turn into his mum. 

“He’s miserable too, you know,” she says as carefully as she can. Which for her, really isn’t all that careful at all. 

He could play dumb, ask who she’s talking about, but they both know it would be pointless. So instead he just asks, “You still talk to him?” because that feels important for some reason. 

He doesn’t even think Liv and Ed had each other’s phone numbers, and here Liv is, chatting it up with Robert even after they’ve broken up. Should he feel betrayed? He might feel a little betrayed. 

“Yeah, I still talk to him. And he misses you, Aaron.” 

Aaron wants to scoff, wants to play this off like it’s nothing, but he knows that tactic won’t work with Liv. So he turns it on her instead. 

“I know you miss him, Liv.”

She tries to harden her face, make herself look older, more mature. But every time she does that, it just makes her look like more of a kid. 

“I don’t miss him,” she says bluntly. But Aaron isn’t buying that for a second. 

He raises an eyebrow at her, and she caves. 

“Alright, I miss him a little. But I miss you more.” 

That… was a weird thing to say. 

“You were happy with him,” she continues. “Happier than I’ve ever seen you.” 

He knows she only means well, and that it’s not her fault that every single person in his life has had the same type of _meaning well_ , but he’s had about enough of this. 

So he says, “What, I’m only worthwhile if I’m happy? Otherwise I’m rubbish?” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she says stubbornly. 

“Then what did you mean?” 

She stares at him for a few seconds, upping the drama in the room before she looks him squarely in the eyes and says, “I meant you deserve happiness. You deserve things that make you happy. And whether you want to admit it or not, Robert was one of them.”

_Or not_ , Aaron thinks. Definitely _or not._

~*~

Liv is at the pub later that night, spending some time with Chas, when Aaron hears another knock on the door. 

This time he’s expecting Liv, having forgotten her keys. Only because his life is one big joke, it’s Robert. 

“What do you want, Robert?” he asks, so knackered that he can barely stand. 

“I just came to tell you that I’m leaving,” he says quietly. 

Aaron shrugs. “What’s that to me? Have a great trip, wherever you’re going.” 

He makes a move to close the door at that but is stopped dead when Robert says, “No, I mean I’m moving.”

He opens the door more fully, notices the look on Robert’s face finally, how pale he is, how worn he looks. And Aaron’s whole body starts to tingle with fear. 

“Back to London. I’m moving back to London. And I thought… well, I wanted you to hear it from me, I guess.”

“W-why?” Aaron asks.

It’s Robert’s turn to shrug. “It was a mistake to come back here.”

For a moment, blind anger pushes the fear away. “You mean I was a mistake.” 

Robert raises his hand slightly before letting it fall back by his side. “You could never be a mistake, Aaron. I could _never_ feel that way. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m just... sorry that you can’t say the same.” 

“So you’re just gonna run away then?” he asks as he crosses his arms, straightening his posture to show Robert just how angry he is. 

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? Me out of your face?” 

“Oh, so you’re a mind reader now?” 

Robert flaps his hands by his sides. “I don’t have to be a mind reader, Aaron. You _told_ me to leave. _Just go and never come back_? Ring any bells?” 

“Yeah, well, fine, whatever,” he says, squeezing his arms tighter around his own body in the hopes that it’ll make his insides feel something other than burning. 

It doesn’t work. 

“I can’t do anything right by you, can I?” Robert asks, exasperation dripping from his voice. “I’m doing this for you, Aaron. Because I can’t stand being here, being a constant reminder of how I hurt you. You don’t deserve that.”

“Oh I don’t deserve it?” he shoots back. “Shouldn’t I get a say in what I deserve?” 

“And what? You’d tell me to stay?” Robert asks, taking a few steps closer to Aaron. “Go ahead and do it. Ask me to stay and I will.” 

Aaron doesn’t say a single flaming word. 

“That’s what I thought,” Robert says, taking a few steps back this time, pulling him away from Aaron as everything inside Aaron is screaming to drag him in. 

“What do you want from me, Aaron? I try to find you, explain myself to you, and you tell me to leave. I try to leave you alone, and you tell me I mean nothing to you. I try to do _exactly what you asked me to do_ and I still get grief. I just… what do you want?” 

_You_ , Aaron thinks. He just wants him. But the voice is still in his head, telling him all sorts. That he doesn’t deserve happiness, that he’s worthless, that no one will ever stay with him. 

And so instead of the truth, Aaron lies, his voice shaking as he replies, “I want you to go,” because that’s the easiest route. 

To let Robert _go_. 

After all, he’s always been better on his own. 

“Fine,” Robert says, his voice completely defeated. “Goodbye, Aaron. I hope… I hope you find all the happiness you deserve.” 

He leans in at that, grips the back of Aaron’s head loosely and presses a kiss to his forehead, just like he used to do every night before they fell asleep. But when he leans away again, something lurches in Aaron’s gut. 

There are tears in Robert’s eyes, proper tears, wobbling chin and everything. And it’s almost enough to make Aaron ask him to stay - in Emmerdale, in his home, in his heart. He doesn’t, though. It’s like there’s this barrier, physically stopping him from reaching out. 

So he says, “Bye Robert,” and tries to pretend that he’s not crying too as Robert nods once then walks away. 

Walks out of his life. 

Taking any chance Aaron ever had at happiness with him. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have never been to London. Not ever. I apologize if my London sucks. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Robert**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So I told him, either you take the deal, or I will personally dismantle your company, brick by brick, until you’re begging to partner with us.”

“Mmhmm,” Robert replies with a blank stare and a nod, even though he’s got little to no idea what Clive is even talking about anymore. 

They’ve been at the bar for almost two hours now, sipping only top shelf bourbon on Clive’s tab because Clive never misses an opportunity to show off just how wealthy he is. 

It used to be a competition between them, but now… well, now Robert would give anything to be drinking a cheap pint in the Woolie, dirt poor and living in his sister’s box room with Aaron just down the road. 

_Aaron_. 

“Robert, are you even listening to me, or am I just speaking into the void?”

He blinks a few times, his eyes sticky from another long day at a job he’s already pretty sure he despises, working for Clive doing grunt work when he knows he’s meant to be doing something different. 

He thinks of the scrapyard, of Home James, even of working behind the bar at the Woolpack, all of which are jobs far preferable to the one he’s currently doing. 

“Sorry, what?” 

Clive sighs at him, crossing his arms on the tabletop and leaning in like he’s getting ready to lecture Robert on his life choices. 

It reminds him of his father, which is not a good look on Clive. 

“It’s been almost two weeks, Robert. Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that Adam bloke.”

Robert’s not going to lie. He throws up a little in his mouth at that. “Adam is my _brother-in-law_.”

Clive waves a hand in the air, indicating how inconsequential he finds that information to be. 

“Fine, whatever, don’t you think you should’ve moved on by now from whatever his name is? I mean, mate, you moved on from Chrissie before you even walked down the aisle with her. Don’t kid yourself, Sugden. Monogamy was never your strong suit.”

Clive laughs at his own joke, the deep belly kind that only really makes Robert want to deck him right now because he just doesn’t get it. He’ll probably _never_ get it because Clive doesn’t love anyone but himself. And Robert…

Robert knows what real love is now. For one startling moment, he _had it_. And it’s like finally seeing the sunshine for the first time in your life and then being asked to go back to living inside a cave. 

Clive must be able to see how annoyed Robert is by his recent comment, because he actually backs off a little, both literally and figuratively. 

“Fine,” he says, leaning away from the table and putting his hands up in surrender. “That was a low blow. But seriously, this moping is unlike you, and it’s starting to put a damper on the evening.”

Robert just glares at him to show how deeply he doesn’t care about the state of Clive’s evening. 

“Do you want to… I don’t know… talk about it?” Clive asks after a minute of tense silence as he shifts in his seat like he’s just filled his pants. His face scrunched up like the last thing he wants in the world is to talk about Robert’s feelings. 

Normally, Robert would agree. He doesn’t have anyone else, though. The only person he might have been able to talk to about this with is Vic, and Robert wouldn’t be surprised if she were fully on Aaron’s side by now. Which, truthfully, is the right side to be on as far as he’s concerned so it’s not like he would blame her. 

They sit in silence for a few long moments, Robert weighing whether or not he wants to share with Clive and Clive probably questioning every decision he’s made in his life up to this point before Robert bites the bullet and says, “I got a text alert from the pub his mum owns - you know the one I told you I worked at for a bit?”

“Ah, right, your months moonlighting as a sexy barmaid.” 

Robert glares at him again, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing. “I forgot I was even still on the list. But it was a rundown of the special events the pub is hosting this month.” 

“And what, they’re hosting a slow dance competition? Seems a little more village hall than village pub.” 

“Do you have to be an absolute prat all the time?” Robert seethes because he’s trying here. Clive and him have been friends for _years_. If there’s anyone Robert should be able to go to with this, it’s him. But all he wants to do is mock him. 

“Yes,” Clive replies, his eyes all big and buggy like Robert should have been able to answer that question himself. “But I can pretend not to be for a minute, I suppose. What was on this list?” 

“Never mind,” Robert mumbles, sitting back in his chair and wrapping his arms around himself for comfort. 

“No, seriously, mate, I want to know.” 

Robert stares at him for a second or two, but when he fails to see mockery in his eyes this time he decides to continue. 

“There’s going to be a pub quiz this week,” he says as quietly as he can to still be heard over the music in the bar. 

“And?” 

“And last time they had one, Aaron and I won by a landslide.” 

Clive nods at him, breathing deeply as he considers what he wants to say. But instead of an insult like he’s expecting, all he gets is a simple, “I’m sorry, mate.” 

Robert takes it, holds it close to his chest. It’s the best he’s likely to ever get from Clive, so for now, it’ll have to do. 

He walks home that evening, his stomach rumbling from hunger, his limbs loosened from alcohol. And he decides to take the long way around instead of just the ten-minute straight shot he could easily go.

He tells himself it’s because he wants to pick up a takeaway and his favourite curry house is on the long route, but he knows the real reason. He just doesn’t want to go _home_. Or, rather, he doesn’t want to admit that this is now his home. 

It makes him think of Aaron, mostly because _everything_ makes him think of Aaron including walking around a city they’ve never been in together. But thinking of Aaron usually tumbles him into the process of second guessing himself for the millionth time. 

Was it a mistake to leave Emmerdale? Should he have pushed harder? Waited longer? Should he have held Aaron tightly until Aaron was willing to listen? 

It’s all pointless. He left because Aaron didn’t want him anymore, didn’t want the hassle of trying to date another born liar. And that’s all Robert is, really. A liar. It’s all he’ll ever be. So the sooner he gets his head around that, the better off he’ll be. 

He makes it home eventually, but as he’s trudging down the hall to his flat, he sees a large, dark lump in front of his door. One that, upon closer inspection, has a long, blonde ponytail and stained red cheeks even as she sleeps just outside Robert’s door. 

_Liv_ , he thinks as he moves quickly to her side. 

She really is fast asleep, that much is clear, her breathing deep and even, her limbs slack. And Robert hates to disturb that kind of slumber on anyone, but he sort of needs to know exactly what Liv is doing here and, more importantly, who does or doesn’t know of her whereabouts.

So he crouches down beside her, whispers the word, “Sorry,” and reaches out to shake her shoulder. 

It takes her a few solid minutes to properly wake up, and when she does, the best word he can use to describe her expression is _sheepish_. 

“Don’t kick off,” are the first words out of her mouth, which basically answers the _does anyone know you’re here_ question he was going to lead off with. 

“ _Liv_ ,” he flat out reprimands, but she just waves her hands in his face in an attempt to stop him from continuing. 

“I shoulda told you I was coming, I know that. But if I had, you woulda said no and I really wanted to come for a visit, Rob.”

Robert narrows his eyes at her and says, “I’m not the one you should’ve told,” because he can read her like a book, the same way she reads him. 

“He wouldn’t have let me come either,” she mutters as she looks down at her lap and begins playing with a loose string on her jeans. “You gonna kick me out now? Send me back?” 

He sighs before resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “The first thing I’m going to do is call your brother.” 

She looks into his eyes at that, the same ones that never fail to remind him of Aaron as she says pathetically, “And then what?” 

“And then he gets to make the call.” 

He gets Liv safely into his flat, sits her down at the kitchen island and gives her his curry because, by the look of her, she hasn’t eaten properly all day. The way she begins scarfing it immediately proves as much. And then he gets his phone out. 

He’s shaking as he swipes past the lock screen - a picture of him and Aaron outside the Mill, their arms wrapped around each other and huge smiles on their faces. 

Liv had taken it for them the last time she’d come down for the weekend, a few months back. She’d teased them both mercilessly for it, making gagging sounds and calling them soppy all afternoon. But Robert can remember thinking that day that he was the luckiest person in the world. 

Things change, sometimes so quickly that you can’t even get a handle on them until the dust settles. 

He doesn’t have time for reminiscing right now. He needs to think about Liv, and how best to get her home. But even before that, he needs to call Aaron. So he goes to his favorites, hits the first number there, and waits. 

It rings out. Of course it rings out. 

_“This is Aaron. You know what to do,”_ he hears, mouthing the words he’s long since memorized as he paces his living room. 

_Beep._

There’s a moment of silence where Robert forgets everything up to and including his own name. But the sound of Liv’s voice shouting, “Can I steal a coke?” shakes him out of it. 

He turns to look at where she’s peeking her head around the wall into the living room, nods, then turns back around again. 

“Look, Aaron, I know I’m just about the last person you want to speak to right now, but when I came home there was a Liv shaped package on my doorstep. I just found her a few minutes ago so I haven’t got much information out of her yet, but I reckon based on how shifty she’s being, you don’t know she’s here. So… she is. And I wanted you to know that. Call me back and we can figure out how to get her home.” 

He almost says _I love you_. It’s a near miss thing. So he hangs up quickly before he can say anything daft and shoves his phone in his pocket. 

“What did he say?” Liv asks, poking a bit more of her body around the corner this time, the lines of her face traced in fear. 

“Voicemail,” Robert says with a shrug. “He doesn’t seem to be in the mood to take my ca-”

His phone begins to ring at that, the ring tone Robert had set special for Aaron because he wanted to know when he could and could not ignore his phone. And at the sound, Liv scurries back into the kitchen. 

“Hello?” Robert asks like he’s simple when he picks up the phone. 

“What the hell is going on, Robert?!” 

_He sounds scared_ , Robert thinks. Terrified, actually. And that sound in Aaron’s voice never ceases to make his insides feel like a series of intricately woven knots. 

“You know as much as I do, Aaron,” he tries to soothe. “I came home a short while ago and found her fast asleep in front of my door. I don’t know how long she was there, but she’s safe and currently eating my curry in the kitchen, so I think she’s alright.” 

There’s a moment where Robert can tell Aaron is just breathing, re-centering himself from the frightening experience of having Liv disappear on him. And so Robert remains dead silent, giving Aaron all the time he needs. 

“She’s okay?” he asks uncertainly a minute or so later, his voice still shaky but calmer, just as Robert had hoped it’d be. 

“She’s fine, Aaron. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” 

“I didn’t… Jesus, Robert, I didn’t think you were lying. I just…”

He trails off, his breaths picking up again across the line like if he’s not having a panic attack yet, he will be soon. And all Robert wants right now is to be next to him, one hand on his chest and the other cupping his cheek, telling him to breathe. 

“Aaron,” he says in the softest, most soothing voice he possesses. “Everything is fine. I can’t imagine how much you’ve been freaking out today, but you’ve found her. She’s safe here with me and everything is going to be _fine_ , so all you need to worry about is breathing, okay? Just breathe.” 

Robert goes silent again, let’s Aaron work, relief flooding him a few minutes later when Aaron says a quiet, “Thanks,” in a voice that’s not nearly as shaky as it was before. 

“No bother,” Robert replies because really, it isn’t. He’d do anything for Aaron, literally. So calming him down a bit is nothing. 

“Can you put Liv on please?” Aaron asks next, and Robert almost doesn’t want to. Not just because he’s _talking to Aaron,_ and that was something he thought was permanently off the table. But he knows that Aaron’s going to kick off if he puts Liv on and he’s worried about him spiraling again. 

“I promise I won’t have a panic attack,” Aaron adds when Robert doesn’t reply, reading his mind like he always seems to. 

“Well as long as you promise,” Robert replies, a poor attempt at a joke before he calls Liv into the room. 

She looks like someone walking to their own death. 

“Aaron wants to talk to you,” he says as he tries to pass his phone to her. She refuses to take it, though, locking her hands behind her back instead in a way that both aggravates and amuses him. 

“He’s not going to have a go,” Robert says, tipping his head down to catch Liv’s downturned eyes. “He just wants to know you’re okay. And I think he deserves that at this point, don’t you?” 

Liv bites her lip before nodding and taking Robert’s phone from him, holding it a bit like a live grenade before finally putting it to her ear. 

It’s an entirely one-sided conversation, full of nothing but “yeah”s and “okay”s and “sorry”s from Liv and what’s sounding like a whole lot of lecturing from Aaron. But Liv is actually smiling a bit when she hands Robert’s phone back to him, so all must have ended at least relatively well. 

“He wants to talk to you again,” she says. And even though he knows it’s really not anything personal, hearing that Aaron actually wants to talk to Robert about _anything_ is like a revelation. 

“I’m coming down now to pick her up,” Aaron says, apropos of nothing. And all Robert can do is look at the clock with confusion. 

“It’s half nine, Aaron. You’ll be driving with your eyes closed by the end of it.” 

“I’ll be fine. A day of adrenaline-fueled worry will do that to you.” 

“Why don’t I bring her home tomorrow morning,” he offers for both of their benefits. One, so that Aaron doesn’t have to drive halfway down the country exhausted and two, so Robert doesn’t have to worry about Aaron _driving halfway down the country exhausted_. 

“I said I’ll be fine, Robert. I just… text me your address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

The conversation ends there, mostly because Aaron hangs up on Robert before he can even say _boo_. 

“He coming to get me?” Liv asks, startling Robert out of his haze. 

He stuffs his phone back in his pocket. “Yeah, he’s leaving now.”

“He’s gonna be driving all night!” she exclaims as if Robert doesn’t already know and isn’t already worried sick about that. 

He can’t show Liv any of that fear, though, so he asks brightly, “That he is. So who’s up for a Game of Thrones marathon?” 

She groans deeply, but she’s also smiling, which Robert is going to take as a win. 

~*~

About halfway through their third episode, Liv passes out on the sofa. Instead of leaving her there, all pretzeled up, he helps her to his room, bundling her up in the duvet as she falls immediately back to sleep. And then he returns to his sofa to fret. 

He’s really good at worrying, he finds. In the time it takes Aaron to actually get there, he’s invented at least a half dozen detailed scenarios of how Aaron could wind up dead on his way down, each one grislier than the last. 

He should have told him no, should have insisted that he wait until morning, or let Robert bring her up. But he’s so careful not to step on Aaron’s toes right now that all he could do was acquiesce. Which is why he spends over an hour and a half panicking, and which is why he practically has a heart attack when there’s finally a knock on his door. 

“Where is she?” Aaron asks before Robert can even get his bearings, pushing his way into Robert’s flat and scanning the living room to see if she’s there. 

“She’s in bed, sleeping,” Robert says far more quietly than Aaron so as not to wake Liv in the other room.

“This way?” Aaron asks, his eyes turning to Robert’s briefly as he points to the door that leads to Robert’s bedroom. 

“Yes, but like I said, she’s _sleeping_. There’s no need to disturb her.” 

Aaron doesn’t seem to agree, judging by the way he pushes himself through Robert’s bedroom door. Thankfully, though, his bullish actions don’t wake Liv as the pair of them just stand there like a couple of weirdos, watching her sleep. 

The light from the TV he long since muted casts moving shadows across her face, her cheek pressed into Robert’s pillow and not a line of worry creasing her brow. And it’s like that image is enough for Aaron to finally relax. 

He breathes out heavily before closing the door and making his way to Robert’s sofa, collapsing down onto it like a ton of bricks, placing his elbows on his thighs and burying his head in his hands. 

Robert sits next to him, keeping a safe distance so as not to spook him. But Aaron must sense his presence because when he asks, “What’s she playing at?” Robert gets the distinct impression that he’s supposed to answer. 

“She said she wanted to see me,” he says quietly, cautiously. “And that she knew if she asked you, you’d say no.” 

“Too right I’d say no,” he snaps as he lifts his head up and looks Robert directly in the eye. “Anything could’ve happened to her on the way here.”

Robert settles a little, happy in the knowledge that Aaron’s outright refusal to let Liv visit him has more to do with her traveling down the country alone than it does with him, you know, hating Robert. 

“But it didn’t,” he says, hoping the gentleness of his voice makes up for the fact that he can’t reach out now, rub a hand over Aaron’s back, tracing the notches in his spine in the way Robert always used to do when Aaron was getting himself worked up over something beyond his control. 

“She’s here, she’s safe, you can see that yourself. You can lecture her all you want tomorrow, but tonight, you should just try and get some sleep.”

Aaron huffs out a laugh like the prospect of sleep is hilarious to him. 

“You look shattered, Aaron. I’m not letting you drive home until you’ve at least tried to get a few hours of kip.” 

“And what exactly are you going to do to stop me, eh?” he asks, something almost loose in his tone before he shakes his head and says, “You’re right, I could probably use some sleep.” 

Robert is frozen for a second over the way it seemed almost as if, for a fleeting second, Aaron was flirting with him. Whatever it had been is gone now, though, and so he says, “Take the sofa,” and gets to his feet, giving Aaron room to stretch out. 

Aaron just looks around, though, at the doors behind them - only two of them - and the pathway into the kitchen. His voice almost concerned when he asks, “Where are you gonna sleep?” 

Robert shrugs. “The floor is fine. It’s not like I’ve never slept rough before.” 

Aaron raises an eyebrow at him. “If your idea of rough is a carpeted floor in a nice flat, then we’re gonna have to expand your horizons a bit.” 

It’s a joke, one that Robert desperately wants to return. But before he gets a chance to, Aaron says, “The sofa is big enough for the both of us.” 

To say that Robert’s mind flatlines would be an understatement.  
  


“Sleeping opposite ways, of course,” Aaron adds when he gauges the look of sheer terror on Robert’s face. “This sofa’s the size of an Olympic swimming pool. I think we can handle sharing it for one night, don’t you?” 

Robert nods, an all-inclusive gesture that agrees with every single word Aaron just said. His sofa is quite large, a long, deep, black leather monstrosity that came with the flat likely because its original owners had no way of getting it out the door. But even though Robert is nodding at everything, the last bit is a little tough for him to swallow. 

Can he handle sharing a sofa with Aaron for one night? 

“Want some… some pyjamas?” Robert stumbles out. And for a second, he’s certain Aaron’s going to say no, that he’ll sleep in his clothes thank you very much. But then he tips his head up to Robert, smiles this soft, small little thing that looks almost like gratitude and nods. 

Robert may or may not be about to pass out here. 

He sneaks into his room, careful once again not to wake its current occupant. But really, he needn’t worry - Liv is out cold. Which is why he’s able to get two pairs of trackies and two t-shirts - both white because he selfishly likes it when Aaron wears something other than black - without Liv even noticing his presence. 

“You can have the loo first,” Robert says as he hands him the pyjamas. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the cupboard if you want it.”

“Cheers,” Aaron says as he gets to his feet, and Robert really wants to say something, something _real_. But he realizes pretty quickly that now is not the time. 

Bare minimum he should wait until Aaron isn’t utterly knackered before he tries to talk him ‘round or, you know, confesses his undying love again. 

They don’t talk as they settle in, nothing said as they switch places in the loo, and nothing said as Robert climbs onto the end of the sofa opposite from where Aaron is curled up under one half of Robert’s blanket. And for a moment, Robert hesitates before he realizes that Aaron left a lot of slack on the blanket, which means he probably wants Robert to use it. And if he doesn’t? 

Well, then he can just pull the blanket back himself. 

He stretches his legs out until they’re just shy of touching Aaron’s before saying a quiet, “Night.”

He doesn’t think it’s going to be reciprocated, which is why his insides jump a little when, a few seconds later, Aaron says, “Goodnight, Robert.” Adding even quieter, “Thanks for looking after my sister.” 

“Anytime,” Robert says truthfully, and that is apparently that. 

He’d like to say he falls asleep right away, lulled by the comfort of having Aaron close by again, but that would be a blatant lie. 

~*~

Sadly, Robert does not wake up with his legs tangled with Aaron’s like they are in some soppy romantic comedy. He’s alone on the sofa, in fact, his feet cold against the leather Aaron has obviously long since abandoned. But his consolation is the fact that Aaron hasn’t left his flat yet. 

He can hear him in the kitchen, arguing with Liv, their voices hushed but still loud enough in the small space for him to make out every word. 

“-can’t just show up at his door like that,” Aaron says tightly, the way he gets every time Liv does something he doesn’t want her to, even if it’s just using the last of the milk without telling anyone. 

“Why?” Liv asks. “Just because you want him out of your life, doesn’t mean I have to want him out of mine.” 

That comment splits Robert open wide, half of him pulling towards the sadness of the reminder that Aaron wants nothing to do with him and half of him pulling towards the joy at knowing Liv does. 

“It’s not about wanting him out of your life, Liv. I told you I was fine with you talking to him. It’s just-”

“Just what? You don’t want me to actually see him? Because it would be easier to if you hadn’t’ve run him out of the village.” 

“That’s not fair,” Aaron says as Robert’s heart rate kicks up a notch or twelve. “I didn’t ask him to leave.” 

“But you wanted him to?” 

The silence that follows that question feels like a crater carved into Robert’s chest. 

“It’s not about whether I wanted him to or not,” Aaron evades, as per usual. “It’s about what he wanted, and _he_ chose to go.” 

“Yeah, and I chose to come visit him.”

“You can’t just do that, though, Liv,” Aaron practically pleads, which is how he always gets at the end of his fights with Liv, like if he can’t reach her with sense, maybe he’ll get her with guilt. 

It’s yet to work even once as far as Robert’s seen. 

“Why? ‘Cause I’m some dumb kid who doesn’t know how to travel by myself? I go back and forth to Dublin by myself all the time, remember?”

“That’s… different.”

“How exactly is that different, Aaron?”

“Because when you’re going back and forth between Dublin and the village, you know someone will be there waiting for you on the other side.” 

Aaron sounds cocky there, like he’s finally found a hole in Liv’s pretty impressive logic. Which usually means she’s about to dismantle him. 

“And what, Robert isn’t a person now?”

“He didn’t know you were coming, Liv. You couldn’t… I mean, how could you even know you had the right address?” 

“Vic gave it to me,” she says with the audible equivalent of smugness in her voice. “Pretty sure she knows where her brother lives.” 

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the fact that you took a trip across the country by yourself without telling a single person that you were doing it. What if he’d been on a trip somewhere? Out of town? Out of the _country_?” 

There’s a pause there, which is a mistake on Liv’s part as it gives Aaron the in he’s been looking for. 

“Sometimes you just don’t think, Liv, and as one of your primary guardians, that scares the life out of me.”

“Fine,” she says petulantly, and Robert can just picture the gobsmacked look on Aaron’s face. 

“You what?” 

“I said fine. You’re right. I should have asked. But I knew neither one of you would’ve let me do it and I really wanted to see Rob.”

“What was so important about seeing him now?” Aaron asks, his voice softer, gentler. 

“I was worried he was gonna forget about me.” 

Those words are quieter than the ones before, and they make Robert’s chest ache. 

“As if,” Aaron replies. “Robert’s never gonna forget you. He loves spending time with you, Liv.” 

“So does that mean we can stay?” she asks, the words bitten out quickly, brightly, like it’s the destination she was aiming for all along. 

Aaron walked right into that one. 

“You what?” 

“If Robert surely wants to spend time with me, and the only reason you didn’t want me to visit was because it was too dangerous for me to get here, well… I’m already here, aren’t I? We all are. So what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is… see, the problem is that… that… that you can’t just invade someone’s life like this.” 

Aaron sounds tentative, like he’s not sure if he’s just won or not. But judging by the sound of Liv’s voice, he shouldn’t have even bothered. 

“Let’s ask him, then, shall we? Rob!” 

His body jumps at her shout, still hidden by the back of the sofa. 

“Don’t wake him up,” Aaron hisses. 

“Oh, pull the other one,” she says before he hears feet making their way to the sofa. 

He immediately slams his eyes shut and does his best to look fast asleep just seconds before he feels the back of the sofa move like someone is leaning over it. 

“Rob! Wake up!” Liv says as she reaches out to shake him. And it’s not an Oscar worthy performance by any means, but he thinks he still does a fair job of pretending to be a man just roused from slumber. 

“What’s going on?” he asks faux groggily, rubbing his eyes for effect. 

“Aaron said we could stay and hang out with you for a while if you’re okay with it.” 

“I did not say any of that,” Aaron chimes in from over her shoulder. 

She rolls her eyes. “That was his basic gist anyway. So what do you say?” 

“Um,” Robert stalls, trying to catch Aaron’s eyes with his own to see what he thinks about this development. But for some reason he won’t look at Robert right now. Only Liv is looking at him, and she’s wearing the kind of expression that makes it hard for Robert to say no. 

“It’s… um… up to Aaron,” he finally stutters out. 

“So you’re cool with it?” she asks Robert. 

“Um… I mean… I guess, yeah, I’m cool with it.” 

Is he cool with it? He has no idea. 

“Yes!” Liv cheers before turning back to her brother with the same pleading look in her eyes. “Is it okay Aaron?” 

Aaron finally locks eyes with Robert at that, for just a fleeting second before he looks back to Liv and casually says, “One day,” like it’s not the most earth shattering thing to ever happen to Robert in his entire life. 

He’s got one more day. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Aaron**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You wanna go sightseeing?” Aaron asks Liv because he needs clarification. “Like, looking at touristy rubbish outside? In London? Like a tourist? Seeing sights?” 

“What’s wrong with sightseeing?” Robert asks because he’s Robert and Robert likes dumb things like taking pictures of sunsets and carving initials into trees like some daft teenage girl. 

Not that teenage girls are daft. Liv is great. And he’s sure other ones are, too. But still. Robert’s taste in life is questionable at best. And Aaron will stand by that judgment until his very last breath. 

“So what, you wanna go see Big Ben and feed the pigeons in Trafalgar Square or summat?” he asks, turning his attention to Robert now because Liv seems to have passed the sightseeing baton to him. 

“I think I can come up with something a little better than that, Aaron.” 

There’s a tease in his voice, one that sends a chill through Aaron’s bloodstream. The good kind of chill. The one that comes after a hot day working in the sun. And the one that Aaron will probably never get rid of if he allows Robert to spend any more time in his presence. 

Why did he agree to today again? 

“I’m not going sightseeing,” Aaron says, arms folded and feet planted in the model image of a dare brought to life. 

Robert and Liv just look at each other, though, shared expressions of mischief on their faces. And so Aaron really isn’t all that surprised when, forty-five minutes later, he’s out sightseeing. 

He doesn’t know which one of the two he’s softer for at this point, but he really hopes it’s not the one he’s worked very hard to break up with. That would just be awkward. 

The first “sight” they see is an area of north London called Camden. Aaron’s never been there before, but he’s almost as awestruck as Liv is once they get to the heart of the neighborhood. 

The sheer array of people is almost overwhelming, from goths to punks and everything in between. And the _market_... 

Put it this way: it’s artistic, and more _Liv_ than any art museum would be at this stage of her life. 

They walk the market for hours, checking out everything it has to offer. And every time Liv asks Aaron to buy her something and he refuses, she turns her puppy dog eyes on Robert and gets him to buy it instead. 

He’s not trying to buy her love, though. It doesn’t feel nefarious like that at all. And it’s not like he’s trying to splash his cash about either. It just really seems like he _wants to_ \- wants to buy her things, wants to make her smile - and Aaron wishes he knew what to do with that. 

Two tops, one carved jewelry box and a small oil painting later, they’re wrapping up their trip to Camden when Liv looks up at one of the many tattoo shops in the area and says, predictably, “Can I get one?” 

“In your dreams,” Aaron replies because Sandra would skin him alive if her sixteen year old daughter came home permanently inked. Or she would if she stayed lucid long enough to care, anyway. 

“C’mon Aaron, _please_? Just a henna one. Totally temporary.” 

He looks to Robert at that, waiting for him to step in and offer to get her one. But it’s the way he _doesn’t_ do that, the way he leaves this one completely in Aaron’s hands, that makes Aaron want to do it. 

“On one condition,” he says slyly, his eyes still locked with Robert’s. 

“What?” Liv asks. 

Aaron smiles crookedly as warmth spreads to his bones. “Robert gets one, too.” 

Liv gets hers first - a small bird on the back of her neck that actually looks quite pretty. And then Robert sits down in the chair and rolls up his shirt sleeves like he is, in fact, about to let someone put a tattoo on his perfect, unblemished skin. 

Robert doesn’t even like to get ink smudges on the side of his hand when he’s doing paperwork. But a henna tattoo is no big deal? 

“You’re really gonna do this?” Aaron asks because he’s starting to feel a little bad about forcing it on him. 

“It’s temporary, Aaron. I think I’ll be fine.” 

There it is again, that teasing in his voice, the one that makes everything run cold. And it makes Aaron a little lightheaded as he looks at Robert’s tanned forearms like some eighteenth century lad getting his first peek at a woman’s ankle. 

_He lied to you_ , Aaron reminds himself. _You’re mad at him. You might even hate him a little_. But his body doesn’t care about those things. All it cares about is how much it wants to wrap itself around Robert’s tall, muscular frame like a koala. 

The tattoo takes longer than Liv’s because it’s larger, a dagger with vines wrapped around it that covers Robert’s entire left forearm. He’s beaming when it’s done, though, his face bright as a child’s as he looks up at Aaron and Liv and asks, “What do you think?” 

Liv gushes over it, but all Aaron can do is nod, a small smile on his face as he looks down at Robert and tries not to fall in love with him again. 

This day was a bad idea. 

~*~ 

Their next stop serves as a giant reminder of just how big of a nerd Robert actually is. 

“You’ve never seen this before?” Liv asks him as the two of them stare up at the statue of Sherlock Holmes Robert has dragged them to. 

Robert just shakes his head, his eyes a little wide with awe, which would be cute if Aaron didn’t still hate him. Maybe. 

“But you’ve lived here for years, and you’re the biggest Sherlock Holmes geek I know.” 

“I’m not a geek,” Robert huffs before Liv can continue. “Sherlock Holmes is a national treasure. If you read the books, you might know that.” 

Liv rolls her eyes at him, but he’s still too enthralled to see it. “How comes you’ve never been here then, Mr. Not Geek?” 

Robert stuffs his hands in his pockets at that, scuffs his foot on the pavement, both signs of embarrassment, before he says quietly, “Chrissie never really cared about stuff like this, so we never came.” 

Liv watches him for a few seconds, takes in his downturned head before saying, “Gimme your phone.”

“What? Why?” 

“Because I wanna make prank calls on it,” she says dryly. “Because I’m going to take your picture in front of this dopey statue, that’s why.” 

Robert smiles, cautiously at first before it blooms into the _love_ one, the one he uses when someone does something that truly touches him. And it’s been so long since Aaron has seen it that it practically knocks him over where he stands. 

Robert unlocks his phone and hands it to Liv before standing in front of the statue, his smile brighter than the bloody midday sun as he leans back casually into the statue, his feet crossed at his ankles and his hands still in his pockets. 

He looks gorgeous, the sun slanting across his face, making him practically glow. And Aaron is almost choking on the lump in his throat as Liv takes the picture then shows it to Robert, the pair of them huddled over the phone like a couple of kids. 

_He’ll hurt you again_ , the voice in his head tries to remind him. But Aaron just tells it to shut up. Because life doesn’t hand you many moments like this, and he doesn’t plan on wasting it. 

~*~

For lunch, Robert picks up some sandwiches and crisps and takes them on a picnic in Hampstead Heath. Which is just ridiculous because picnics are terrible and Robert is an over-the-top sap picking the park with the greatest view of the city as his picnic location. 

It’s like the man can’t do anything wrong. 

Or, well, most anything. 

“I can’t believe I’m on another picnic with you,” Aaron grumbles as he bites into his meat-filled sandwich. 

“You guys have been on a picnic before?” Liv asks as she pops a crisp into her mouth. “How’d that go?” 

Aaron’s heart rams in his throat as he looks across at Robert. Memories of how the previous picnic ended flash through his mind and, judging by the look on Robert’s face, they flash through his mind as well. 

“It was alright,” Aaron answers once he has the ability to speak once again. 

“Yeah, nothing special,” Robert adds, but that tone is there again, and this time, it makes Aaron smile. 

Picnics are the absolute worst. 

~*~

The final destination, as the sun is starting to set, is the London Eye, which is by far the most touristy stop on the entire trip. Liv really wants to go up in it, though, and what Liv wants today, Liv seems to get. 

It’s almost like Aaron has completely forgotten that he was mad at her for terrifying him less than twenty-four hours ago. 

It’s almost like Aaron has forgotten a lot of things. 

Their pod is only half full once the wheel starts moving, which makes Aaron feel less claustrophobic than he otherwise might right now. Because one little known fact about Aaron Dingle is that he one hundred percent hates heights. 

Robert doesn’t know that, though. Neither does Liv. And if he has it his way, neither of them will ever know that. It’s hard to hide, though, given that his breath thins out the higher they get. And there’s no way that Robert doesn’t notice the problem once Aaron turns his back to the glass so he at least isn’t forced to see how high they are. 

He tips his head down, does his best to just wait it out. And he’s so wrapped up in his own head that he practically jumps out of his skin when he feels something brush against the side of his hand. 

He looks down to see Robert’s hand there, just barely touching his. And something that Aaron has been holding tight in his chest for weeks begins to unfurl as he entwines his fingers with Robert’s and holds on. 

For once, the voices in his head are silent. 

~*~ 

  
It’s too late to drive back to Emmerdale once they’ve finished all their sightseeing, so Robert offers to cook them all tea. And since pizza is Liv’s favorite, Robert spends nearly an hour in the kitchen making it from scratch. 

While he’s doing that, Aaron and Liv watch TV in silence almost like neither one of them wants to wreck the day by opening their big, fat gobs. But silence is never a good thing for Aaron, given how much time it gives him to _think_. 

It was a great day. He won’t lie to himself and say it wasn’t. But it was also just one day, away from home, away from the reality of the life he and Robert were trying to create. The one that crashed and burned because of Robert’s lies about his past. 

He’s still angry. It’s getting harder for him to feel it, but he knows it’s still technically there. And even more than that, he’s still scared, worried that Robert is lying to him about other things or, worse still, that Robert will end up cheating on him just like Ed did. 

His head is mashed, basically, as he watches the second Die Hard movie with Liv, his eyes unfocused as the sounds of Robert puttering around the kitchen drift to his ears. 

What the bloody hell is he supposed to do?

Dinner is amazing, as expected. Aaron can’t even make toast without burning it, but everything Robert touches in the kitchen turns into some sorta gourmet meal. Must run in the family, he thinks, just like Vic. 

But it’s endearing more than annoying tonight as he watches Liv tell Robert all about the new game she’s addicted to on her phone. Or rather _as he watches Robert smile at the way Liv is telling him about the new game she’s addicted to on her phone._

Bloody flipping hell. 

The three of them settle on the sofa after tea before spending at least a half hour arguing over what movie to watch, just like normal. And just like normal as well, Liv and Robert outvote Aaron and so he’s stuck watching some lame movie about sharks in a tornado or something. 

He really has no idea what’s going on in the movie, but that’s probably because Liv wanted to curl up in the corner of the sofa and so Aaron is currently sat in the middle of it, his body tipping slightly to the side like he’s being magnetically drawn to Robert. 

He _wants_ so badly, but he also hates himself for wanting like this. For being weak. For wanting to just throw out what Robert did and give him a do-over because it’d be easier that way. It’s supposed to be easier to forget, but since when has Aaron ever been good at forgetting? 

This is what’s on his mind as he tries to sleep, crashed out on opposite ends of the sofa from Robert just like the night before. Judging by the sounds of his soft snoring, Robert is fast asleep. But Aaron has been lying in the same position for hours, just staring blankly at Robert’s ceiling. 

His mind seems to be on a continuous cycle of forgiveness to weakness to anger then back again. And he just so happens to be on _anger_ when Robert kicks out in his sleep, catching Aaron hard on the shin. 

_Forgiveness-Aaron_ might have let it slide. _Weakness-Aaron_ would have felt ashamed at how the kick reminds him of countless nights in his bed with Robert. But _Anger-Aaron_? He kicks back. 

Literally. 

“What’s wrong?” Robert gasps out as he shoots up where he’s lying, his eyes wild in the dim glow of the moon bleeding through the cracks in the living room curtains. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Robert. Just go back to sleep,” Aaron replies, but Robert must sense something off in his voice because instead of lying back down, he sits up even further. 

“Aaron,” Robert says again, his voice clearer now, and clearly full of worry as he stops himself before saying anything beyond Aaron’s name. 

“‘m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Aaron tries again, but his voice sounds funny even to himself, like he’s on the verge of tears maybe even though his eyes are dry. 

“Can’t sleep?” Robert asks, a caution in his tone. 

“Not with you snoring I can’t,” Aaron jokes in the hopes of lightening the mood. 

“I don’t snore.”

“Yes, you do.” 

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this, Robert. You. Snore.” 

“Prove it,” he bites back. 

And Aaron doesn’t even think before he says, “Fine, next time I’ll record you. Then you’ll have your proof.” 

The words _next time_ spin through his head, pressing on his brain like a physical weight as he looks out at Robert - _his_ Robert, once upon a time - sitting only a few short feet away from him. 

“Tell me something honest,” he says quietly, the words just blurting out of him like they couldn’t be contained even though Aaron can’t even remember thinking them up. 

“Like what?” Robert asks with only a slight hint of wariness. 

“I don’t know. Anything.” 

Things fall quiet between them for a few minutes as Robert thinks, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable like it should be. It’s just… _there_ , spread between them like the blanket they’re currently sharing, their feet still touching from when Aaron kicked Robert awake. 

“I married my wife for money and to solidify my place in her father’s company,” he says finally, his voice almost completely monotone like he’s talking about some business deal. 

“I didn’t love her. I convinced myself that I did, or at least I tried to, but looking back I can see that there wasn’t even a single moment of knowing her where I actually loved her.”

He pauses, as if to make sure that Aaron doesn’t wanna bolt. And when he doesn’t, Robert continues. 

“The affairs started early, even before we got married. From the time I was young, I was always the type to move quickly from one thing to the next. My dad… my dad used to get on me for stuff like that. _You’ve got no staying power, no sense of commitment_ , he used to say, and he was right. Until y-... well, until recently, I didn’t know what it was like to want to stay.”

Aaron absorbs the comment and saves it for later, asking instead, “How many were there? Affairs?” 

Robert drops his head down and sighs, refusing to look up again when he says, “Would you hate me if I said I don’t even remember?” 

Aaron pulls his knees up to his chest at that. 

“She wasn’t enough, Aaron. Nobody was. Not until you, and that’s the honest truth.” 

“Why?” Aaron asks, the only question he can even think of that remotely matters right now. 

Robert laughs, though. A surprised bark of it before he asks, “Have you met yourself?” 

He has. And that’s the problem. 

The silence oozes between them now, spread thicker than before. And Aaron knows what he has to do, what he has to _say_ , but it takes a while for him to get the words out. 

For him to say, “The first time I was raped I was eight.” 

Robert sucks in a breath like he’s just been punched in the gut before he says, “Aaron, you don’t have to tell me anything.” 

_I want to_ , he thinks. He almost feels like he _needs_ to. So he ignores Robert’s comment and continues. 

“It wasn’t just the sexual abuse, though. That was bad, don’t get me wrong. I still have nightmares of him creeping in my room. But I think it was everything else that’s messed me up the most.”

“How do you mean?” Robert prompts softly when Aaron stalls out. 

“The things he’d say,” he says as he pulls his knees closer to his chest. “How I was worthless, how I was nothing but a burden, how no one wanted me, how he was the only one willing to deal with me.”

“Aaron, that’s not true,” Robert all but pleads, but Aaron just waves him off. 

“It was true, some of it anyway. My mom left me, I couldn’t make a friend to save my life. I _was_ worthless.” 

It feels weird to say it out loud, almost like it’s giving him strength now instead of taking it. 

“But ever since I met you, I’ve started to believe that maybe… maybe I’m not anymore. Not worthless. And not just because you want me but because… because I do. Because I want myself.” 

“Aaron,” Robert breathes out before moving closer to him, keeping just outside of Aaron’s personal bubble so as not to spook him. “You could never be worthless. You’re… you’re _everything_. You’re worth everything. And anyone that taught you any different is… is just _wrong_.” 

A tear slips down Aaron’s cheek, but it’s not a sad one, not really. It’s something else, something cracking inside of him that needed to be broken in order to be fixed. And with Robert here, so close, the feel of his hand wrapped around his inside the Eye still locked in his memory, maybe Aaron can finally just let it crumble away. 

“I wanna be happy,” he says, so quietly it’s practically a whisper, his throat so tight he’s surprised he’s able to get words out at all. “For so long he’s made me miserable, Robert, but I wanna be happy… with you.” 

“People don’t forgive me,” Robert says, his voice shaking, his eyes scared. 

Aaron shrugs. “People don’t stay with me.” 

“I will, Aaron. If you’ll let me.” 

Robert stares at him for a few long seconds, his eyes gleaming with tears that have yet to fall, his expression torn like he’s got no clue what he’s supposed to do here. What he’s _allowed_ to do here. So Aaron takes the choice out of his hands. 

He turns his legs to the side, gets them out of the way so he can move forward, right into Robert’s arms. 

“I wanna be happy,” he chokes out again, the words this time coming on the back of a flood of tears as he wraps his arms around Robert’s neck and holds on like he’ll die if he doesn’t. “And if I don’t… don’t give us a proper chance, it’s like he’s won, ha’n’t he?” 

Robert just shushes him, letting Aaron answer his own question as he runs his palm up and down Aaron’s spine, soothing him the way he always has. And that’s it, isn’t it? That’s what Robert is to him, what Robert _does_.

Robert quietens the voices in his head. Robert soothes away the worry. The brightness of Robert blots out the fear. 

_I love you_ , he thinks, the words still unspoken, but he thinks that maybe here, now, Robert can hear them, at least a little. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Robert**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This time, Robert does wake up with his legs tangled with Aaron’s like they are in some soppy romantic comedy. After their conversation the night before, Robert had simply sunk back into the corner of the sofa, pulling Aaron with him until they were completely wrapped up in one another. And that’s exactly how they’ve woken up. Or how Robert has woken up, anyway. 

Aaron is still fast asleep, his cheek pressed tight to Robert’s chest, his arms wrapped around Robert’s body. And it’s more than Robert could have ever hoped for, more than he believed possible at this point, which basically means it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him by a long shot. 

He presses his lips to the top of Aaron’s head, lets them linger there as long as he likes, breathing in the smell of Aaron’s shampoo and hair gel as he wonders how he’s managed to get this lucky. 

Clearly, he owes Liv a Thank You basket for this one.

Aaron starts to stir eventually, his sleepy mumbling coating Robert’s skin with a sense of fondness he’s missed like a severed limb. His face buried in the curve of Robert’s neck as he squirms himself awake until eventually, he stops moving altogether. 

Robert tenses, fearing the worst. That now that Aaron is awake, now that he’s had a chance to sleep on it, he won’t want Robert as much as he’d claimed to last night. But then Aaron makes this _hmmm_ sound, and then Aaron says, “Bloody hell, I’ve missed you,” and Robert…

Well, Robert doesn’t even know how to contain his joy at this point. 

“I,” Robert starts with the intention of telling Aaron just how much he’s missed him as well. But for some reason he can’t get the words to come out of his mouth. They’re all choked up, backed up behind the lump in his throat, and so he squeezes Aaron tighter and hopes he gets what that means. 

“I know,” Aaron whispers before pressing a kiss to the side of Robert’s throat. “I know.” 

And Robert… well, Robert melts, doesn’t he? 

They stay like that for a few minutes, just breathing each other in, letting the silence burrow down deep into marrow before Aaron let’s go of Robert so he can fold his arms across Robert’s chest. 

He leans up, looks deep into Robert’s eyes like he’s studying him, weighing out his next words before saying, “I want you to come home.” 

Tears immediately prick at Robert’s eyes, his arms shaking as they continue holding onto Aaron, but the only word he can manage to speak is Aaron’s name. 

“I mean it,” Aaron supplies like he completely understands the question Robert can’t seem to ask. “I should never have let you leave the village. That was selfish of me. _Stupid_ of me. Emmerdale is your home. You _belong_ there. And if this matters to you in any way, I want you there.” 

“Matters to me in any way?” Robert chokes out incredulously. “It means _everything_ to me, Aaron. That you want me there… it means everything.” 

Aaron smiles at him, halfway between sleepy and happy, two of Robert’s favorite dwarves on him. His voice caught in the same middle ground when he says, “Good. So you’re coming home?” 

Robert nods so hard and fast he’s half worried about snapping his neck. 

“I’m coming home.” 

After breakfast, Aaron and Liv help Robert pack up his things. It doesn’t take long, given that Robert hadn’t had the heart to unpack most of what he brought with him back to London. But it’s a pleasant experience either way, full of shy, shared glances between him and Aaron and secretly knowing ones between him and Liv. 

He’s definitely getting her that Thank You basket. 

The three of them set off just after eleven, Aaron and Liv in Aaron’s car and Robert packed into his Porsche with all of his worldly goods. But unlike the last time he did this, dread doesn’t weigh down his limbs as he makes his way to the motorway. 

They stop a few times on the way back for food and loo breaks, taking Liv straight to the ferry because the last time Aaron talked to Sandra, she was completely mental over her wayward daughter. And after a long goodbye full of hugs and promises of visiting soon, Aaron and Robert head separately back to Emmerdale. 

Robert beats Aaron back to the Mill because maybe, just maybe, he was putting his foot down harder than traffic laws allow. He’s just too excited, though - to be home, to be with Aaron, to be back in a place he thought he’d never see again. 

He’s sitting on the bonnet of his car when Aaron pulls up, his left leg bouncing against the pavement as he braces his hands against warm metal and tries to be patient like a normal human being. 

He can’t wrap his head around any of this, though. Around the fact that in a few minutes tops, he might be allowed to touch Aaron again, hold him again, _kiss_ him again. It’s just so far beyond the scope of his recent reality that it’s making him feel like his body is shaking apart at the seams. 

“Wanna come in?” Aaron asks shyly as if there’s anything Robert would say other than _fuck yes_. All he does is nod, though, because once again just the mere sight of Aaron Dingle has stolen Robert’s ability to speak. 

They go through the outer door quietly, go through the inner door quieter still. But before they get a foot into the flat, Aaron turns around and quite literally pounces. 

The kiss burns through Robert’s body like a lit fuse, setting fire to his limbs, burning up the back of his neck where Aaron’s hand currently resides, pulling him in. And it’s almost too much to bear, too painful in that amazing way that only Aaron makes him feel, but Robert just grabs Aaron by the waist and holds on. 

He’s lost this once. There’s no way he’s letting go ever again.

They start to move further into the room only to stumble a few steps in, Aaron’s lips yanked away from him as he has to reach out to catch Aaron before he topples over. 

Robert looks around for the first time, a laugh bubbling up his throat as he sees the state Aaron’s flat is in. But before the laugh can properly get free, Aaron says a stern, “Don’t you start.” 

The laugh escapes despite Aaron’s warning. 

“I’m gone for a few weeks and you what? Turn into a literal pig?” he asks, his voice light as he turns his nose up in disgust at how filthy things have gotten. “First thing we’re doing tomorrow is cleaning this place up.”

“Oh you plan on being here tomorrow, do you?” Aaron asks smoothly as he steps back into Robert’s space and runs his hands down Robert’s arms. 

Robert smiles softly, trying not to let the sadness creep in when he replies, “I plan on being here as long as you let me.” 

It’s a question more than anything, a _plea_ , another way of saying _please don’t ever make me go again, I couldn’t bear it._ But judging by the way Aaron smiles back, all confidence and certainty, Robert has a feeling that he’s pretty safe here. 

“S’good that I don’t plan on letting you go, then,” he says quietly, roughly, his voice that scraped gravel that always makes Robert ache. And then he’s kissing Robert again, his lips and tongue overwhelming as Robert just reaches out and holds on for dear life. 

They eventually manage to stumble their way upstairs, pushing through the half-open bedroom door and tumbling onto the bed. 

Aaron’s weight when it falls onto Robert’s body is like the final piece of the puzzle, the one that allows him to relax, believe this is real as they lie there for a while just snogging like they’ve got all the time in the world. 

And they do now, he supposes. If Aaron truly has forgiven him, they’ve got _all the time in the world_. Which is something that Robert honestly can’t get his head around. 

“Get this off,” Aaron mumbles eventually as he impatiently tries to undo the buttons on Robert’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry, next time I’ll just wear velcro, shall I?” he asks with a laugh as he helps Aaron work on his shirt. 

“Not gonna say it wouldn’t be helpful,” he replies as he nips at Robert’s neck. But before Robert can laugh at the comment, Aaron’s mouth is on his again. 

Undoing the buttons on a standard, plain white button up shirt is nearly impossible when Aaron’s mouth is on his. He knew this before, but now he feels it in his very bones. 

“Bloody hell,” Aaron hisses into his mouth as they finally get the last of the buttons undone. And then he’s pulling at Robert’s shoulders, dragging him up so he can get the shirt off him in the most aggressive manner Robert has seen from him in a long time. 

So much for having all the time in the world. 

Before he lies back down, Robert removes Aaron’s jumper, his hands sliding over skin both smooth and scarred as he teases along the waistband of Aaron’s jeans. An action that makes Aaron groan deeply. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Aaron says, the words different than they were before, meaning something else entirely. But both of them equally meaningful to Robert as he works Aaron’s belt open before attacking the button and zip on his trousers. 

He pushes Aaron’s jeans and pants down just far enough to take Aaron in his hand, his familiar weight heavy as Robert slides down and then up again as slowly as his lust-drunk mind will allow him to. Which in the end, really isn’t that slow at all. 

Aaron doesn’t seem to mind, though, as curse words begin to slip quietly from his lips. His hips moving in time to Robert’s pulls as he tries and fails to kiss Robert’s mouth again, too uncoordinated to do much beyond pressing his lips to random parts of Robert’s face. 

“I need… can I… Robert, can we…”

Robert takes his free hand from where it had been resting on Aaron’s waist and moves it to his face. “Tell me what you want, Aaron. You can have anything.” 

Aaron blinks down at him, pupils blown wide from lust as he licks his lips and says, “I wanna be inside of you.” 

Robert nods. _Emphatically_. His whole body alive with the prospect of feeling connected like that to Aaron again. And Aaron…

Well, his grateful smile says it all. 

They remove the rest of their clothes quickly before settling back into their original position, Aaron on top of him. Only now Aaron has a bottle of lube in his hands and now Robert’s skin is alive against Aaron’s at every point of contact. 

How had he ever thought that he’d be able to live without this? Without Aaron’s finger, circling his arse hole. Without Aaron’s lips, sucking at his neck as his fingers slide inside of him. Without Aaron, on him, in him, around him, _everywhere_ , how did he _ever_ think he could live without _this_? 

Aaron pauses once he’s done prepping Robert, but before he puts the condom on, he holds it up to Robert with a question on his face. 

“What’s up?” Robert asks as he rises to his elbows. 

“Can we?” Aaron asks, holding up the condom again before moving it in the direction of the night table like he wants to put it back. 

“You… you trust me?” Robert asks shakily as memories of the last time they went without protection flood his mind. Along with memories of the time Aaron had called him on his lies about who he’d been with before. 

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Aaron says with a shrug that is so very _Aaron_ it hurts. And Robert…

Well, he’d really just give Aaron the entire world if he could, wouldn’t he?” 

He leans up and kisses Aaron at that, hot and deep, before reaching out to take the condom so he can toss it to the ground, show Aaron that the trust still goes both ways. And the smile on Aaron’s face at that… it’s electric. 

He slicks himself up while Robert lies back on the bed again, waiting for Aaron to push inside of him, fill him up. And when he finally does, there’s not an ounce of disappointment in Robert’s mind. 

It’s perfect. 

_He’s_ perfect. 

They start off slow, languid thrusts of Aaron’s hips as Robert’s legs rise up to wrap around Aaron’s lower back. But then a series of events occur that set them down a different, more erratic path. 

It starts with Aaron hitting his prostate dead on, with Robert making a keening sound that has Aaron laughing with how much it affects him. And then they’re both just lost to it all, thrust after thrust, moan after moan, until Aaron’s hand in on Robert for less than ten seconds before he’s coming all over his own belly. 

Aaron comes a moment later, just like always. And all Robert can do is lie there with Aaron still inside of him, wondering how the rest of his life is going to look after this day. 

He hopes it looks exactly like this. 

Aaron pulls out eventually, rushing off to get a wet towel to clean up Robert. And then Robert finally moves, but only a few inches over so that Aaron has room to crash out on the bed as well. 

He can’t get comfortable, though. And it takes him a minute to realize it’s because his pillow is lumpy. So as Aaron lies next to him with his eyes closed, so near sleep it’s adorable, Robert investigates. 

He’s not expecting to find his favourite blue zip up jumper stuffed beneath Aaron’s pillow. 

“Um… Aaron?” he asks, holding the jumper up in front of Aaron’s face as he opens his eyes blearily and blinks at Robert’s find. “Why is my jumper stuffed beneath your pillow.” 

“Shit,” Aaron hisses as he grabs the jumper and tosses it across the room. “What are the chances that you’ll just forget you ever saw that?” 

Robert smiles, the wolf-like one that comes out whenever he’s got Aaron caught dead to rights. His voice just as slick as he leans over Aaron and says, right against his lips, “Slim to none.” 

He kisses down into him then, maps the contours of Aaron’s mouth with his tongue and thinks of all the time he’ll have in the future to do just this. Thinks of all the ways he’s never had this before, never even really wanted it until Aaron walked into that club and changed everything. 

“Mmm, hang on,” Aaron says as he pulls away from Robert, slipping out from underneath him and scurrying off the bed. 

He thinks he’s going for the jumper, but instead, he picks up his jeans and fishes something out of the pocket. 

It’s not until Aaron hands it to him that he realizes what it is. 

“You kept this?” he asks shakily as he opens up the piece of paper even though he doesn’t have to. He knows exactly what it says. 

“It never stopped being true,” Aaron whispers like the words are too important to say loudly. Like they need to be hushed. 

_I love you._

_Fancy moving in with me?_

“It’s true?” Robert asks as he clutches the paper in his hand for dear life. “You want… you want me to…”

Aaron shrugs, still so _him_ that it hurts. “Well, you’ve already got your stuff packed up. No sense moving it back into Vic’s. So what do you reckon?” 

“What do I reckon?” he asks. “ _What do I reckon_?! I reckon yes, you idiot. A thousand times yes!” 

He tackles Aaron back to the bed, kisses the absolute life out of him before saying, with more behind it than ever before, “I love you, Aaron Dingle.” 

Aaron smiles and then finally, _finally_ says the words Robert’s been wanting to hear for months. 

“I love you too, Robert Sugden. I never stopped.”

He never stopped. 

Neither did Robert. 

And now, they never will. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that came along on this journey with me! Especially you lovely souls that left comments. They really kept me going! I hope to see you all back for the next fic. Until then, I'm on Tumblr (starwitness42) if you want to chat all things Robron. <3


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